Aether Queen
by TheBatKid
Summary: After the battle with Malekith and the Aether's disappearance, Hel finds a new purpose in seeking it out. She'll allow no one else to have its power. But on Midgard her magic is weakened, and soon enough she finds herself consumed with stopping her father's plot. (Sequel to 'His Girl.' Thor 2 spoilers.)
1. Aether and its Properties

Aether Queen

Aether went far back - to before time began.

Hel had studied what little there was available on it; talks of changing matter to dark matter, altering entire personalities until they became drunk with power and forgot the good they intended. The dusty tomes lined her ceiling high bookshelves as she sat at her desk, which was carved out of glittering ice and dulled to her touch.

"Hmm…" she read a paragraph in the worn, leather-backed book in front of her, small fingers drifting over the words like they had a mind of their own, "Once bonded, the energies of the Aether slowly consume any mortal host, and have a volatile and deadly effect on any who come into contact with the host in a manner that the Aether perceives as threatening."

A smile danced across her lips. She had seen Thor's lady-friend in Silver Sheen and knew much of her essence had bonded with that legendary stuff, but to read what pain in caused mortals almost made Hel giddy. Like her father, she saw Midgardians as beneath her – they aged too quickly, and their children never knew their full potential until they'd squandered it. Her time was too precious to be wasted on them. And it seemed the Aether felt the same, since it chose to kill its mortal hosts.

"Bonded with a stronger host which understands its power, the Aether can be employed as a weapon. It can lash out with a concussive force, or reach out to convert matter."

The candlelight flickered around her as the Queen continued working, a silence in the room like deafening drums. So invested was she in her studies that she didn't notice one of her demons come in, and only realised once it had crept up to her desk.

"Gee!" she huffed, closing the book gently so as not to destroy it, "You're disturbing my work. What is it?!"

The demon looked at her queen without speaking. As far as Hel could tell, none of them spoke. Perhaps it was just something robbed from them when they had walked through Yggdrasil, but either way it unnerved her when she understood the looks, their gestures. It made her remember just how far she'd come, the path she'd travelled to rule her kingdom.

"Truly? Here?" the Queen stood, and her chair made the slightest sound against her stone floor, "Why?"

Geneva…what was left of Geneva looked at her again. The fear in her eyes spoke the volumes she couldn't. It sparked through the red until it turned them almost yellow, dilating her pupils until they were almost the only thing Hel could see, all the while her face never changed.

"Curious. One of the Three, here in Helheim. I wonder what he wants?"

She turned to inspect the shelves lining her walls, seeing the picture of her brothers she had hung above the giant entrance. Their faces provided comfort to her, whether or not they were covered in fur and scales. They were her brothers, and forever her blood had sworn to them a loyalty above all others, as long as that loyalty was reciprocated in her time of need. Hidden in her desk was another picture – that one she preferred to hide away, for fear that some half-wit would sneak into her study and see it.

"Where did you leave him?"

Another look, another unspoken answer.

"Good. That's where our guests stay. Geneva, you're worth your weight in gemstones."

Hel walked to the side of the room, where in a glass case she had left her crown. It was a strange thing – nine jagged spikes sat on the top and the base was the perfect shape for her head, but that didn't make it unique. What made it unique was the emerald that glittered at the top of the middle spike. Infused with a teleportation spell, it walked the roots of Yggdrasil for her when she wanted to leave her realm, so she was never forced to see that horrid place again. The blueprints for it were a complicated mess locked away in her war-room, where she put all of the things she might one day use in battle.

She touched the glass, and it melted away. The crown, now free of its cage, was picked up and placed on her head – the emerald glowed brighter as her eyes intensified, and even the demon Geneva flinched away at the sight of Hel's amethysts.

"Let's see what Fandral wants of us."

In her grand hallway, the blond warrior was pacing around the floor, looking at the portraits of the Nine Realms and Hel's many ornaments. Garm growled at his feet when he came too close to the throne, which stood as a sort of mockery to Odin's. Covered in ice and rock, made comfortable only with a spell, the seat of power was on a platform of dark stone, with the steps leading up to it steep and treacherous. Fandral stared at it for a moment as Garm's sharp canines leered at him, his brown coat shining under the strengthened candlelight.

"Now, Garm," Hel sang when she entered the room, "That's no way to entertain a guest. You should be more sociable. I won't have a pup dictating who's welcome in my hall."

Fandral watched as the Queen ascended the steps to her throne. She never ceased to unnerve him. With her pale face and sharp amethyst eyes, meeting Hel felt like she was staring into your soul, until even her words seemed to burn with the sun's intensity. Her long winter coat stopped mid-shin where her black trousers were visible, and her hair had been enchanted so it never grew further than a little below her shoulders. She still reminded him of Loki after all those years. And the thought of Loki sent a fire through the warrior's belly, enough fuel to push away his growing unease.

When Hel had finally sat down, she propped her head up with her hand and smiled at him.

"Hello, Fandral. It's been a long time – tell me, how is Thor?"

"Fine."

"And the Warriors?"

"They're well."

"A pity."

He narrowed his eyes at her, supressing a snide remark as he remembered why he'd come. Hel's comments wouldn't stop him from doing his job. Still, Fandral saw how young she was – a girl, not a woman.

"I suppose you've heard of our recent troubles?" he said with eyebrows raised, his face relaxed.

She waved her hand, "Malekith and his friends. I tired of the details."

"Oh?" he dared to take a few steps towards her, "So you don't know of the Aether?"

"Aether?" in her mind, Hel grinned. Her head rose along with her eyebrows in fake surprise, trying her best to keep the mirth from her voice. "What Aether?"

It was Fandral's turn to smile; "The Aether Malekith was after. It bonded with Lady Jane, and it was only through sheer cunning she survived."

"Ah yes, I've heard of this woman – Miss Jane Foster, yes?"

He nodded. It didn't surprise him Hel knew her adopted uncle's friend; in some ways, Fandral would have been anxious if she didn't.

"Where's this Aether now?"

"A place it will never be found," he said, and Hel noted the vagueness in his answer. It puzzled her more than anything, but she kept her face aloof and her voice cool.

"Does it concern me at all?" she smiled, "Or did you simply come for a visit?"

"King Odin ordered me to come to you and inform you of all developments. He commands this rule, new as it is, to be taken with the utmost importance."

That made Hel start. She had never anticipated Odin to send her his warriors, not in a thousand years. Time had worn what little kinship they had; after Loki's betrayal and Hel's refusal to give them back their son, it seemed that Asgard had all but renounced their connection with her. Not that Hel had ever noticed their absence. If anything, it helped her focus on her own Kingdom.

She peered at Fandral so closely that he felt like his skin was on fire, until her voice spoke with that fearful combination of ice and magic.

"Why?"

A question. A question so simple it made the warrior's brain freeze. He stared dumbly at the Queen in front of him, until she grew impatient and tilted her head towards her dog.

"Garm's feeding time is getting closer…"

Fandral jumped back to life; "I apologise, Queen Hel. My mind-"

"Was lost?"

"King Odin wants Helheim and Asgard's allegiance strong, and he feels as though telling you of developments in the universe will help solidify our bond."

"We have no bond. I am Queen of a rival realm – nothing more."

"He disagrees. And, as he is my King, I'm inclined to agree with him."

"No matter. Tell Odin he can keep me out of his petty wars."

It seemed as though nothing else could be said, but the moment Fandral turned to leave her castle Hel called out.

"Wait!"

Fandral turned. He looked at the pale-faced girl, and nodded.

"Tell me, Warrior-" she leaned forward, elbows balanced on her knees, "What of my father?"

He went suddenly quiet, struck with a sadness that he thought misplaced. News of Loki's death and the failure to recover his body had hit everywhere. It pained him that he was the one to tell Hel.

"Loki sacrificed himself to save Thor and Lady Jane," he explained, "And his nobility will be remembered above his misdeeds. I'm sorry for your loss, Hel."

She took him into account for a moment. Thoughts ran through her head, each one of them separate and fast, until finally she found one that made her remember what she did.

_I let him live. Father's still alive._

But Hel only nodded, and Fandral stood there waiting until some of her 'agony' had passed.

"I thank you for telling me," her voice was small, a façade for her knowledge, "Now's a time for mourning in my Kingdom. Where is my uncle Thor? I must go to him, so we might remember my father."

Fandral's eyes softened; "Thor is on Earth, with his Lady Jane and a Midgardian force known as the Avengers. If you wish, I can accompany you to them, my Queen."

She gave him her smallest smile, as though thankful for his kindness in a time he thought was difficult. No matter what she had against her Asgardian counterpart, Hel remembered his loyalty to his King, and his blind courage when fighting foes many times the size of himself.

"That will be most kind of you, Fandral. If you give me a moment, I'd like to gather a few of my things before we leave. Business on Helheim – you understand."

"That I do, my lady," he smiled at her, "Take all the time you need."


	2. The Picture

Hel gathered the things she thought she needed; books; scrolls; an assortment of gemstones enchanted with spells. She placed them in her book-holder, identical to Loki's when she was a little girl, and told the demons to hold fort while she was gone. Midgard was a strange place; knowing a little of it, the Queen decided it was best not to bother with her war garments.

"I never thought I'd be travelling to Midgard," she confided in Lars, who stood in rigid silence at her desk, "The mortals never interested me. After Thor fell to one's charms, I called him a fool and knew Asgard would do the same."

Lars looked at her as she went through her little monologue. A slight spark of energy forked in his red eyes like lightning would the sky, but it fizzled before Hel could notice. No matter what the demon thought of his Queen's opinions, he would be loyal to her until the end.

"Now it seems I'm the fool. The Trickster isn't dead, Lars – he thinks it's an illusion, and I allow him to believe it, because how else do I explain why I revived him? His life force never came to me. He died as a warrior, and for some reason I bargained with Valhalla to give him back. How do I explain that?"

She stopped walking around her desk, her hands stilled as she gazed up at Lars with big, glowing eyes. There was pleading in them; she wanted so desperately for the demon to speak, to tell her that what she did was for the good of the universe rather than a mercy to herself, but his silence prevailed. The ice around the room grew colder as Hel slowly sat in her chair.

"Perhaps it's my fault?" her thoughts came aloud, "My weakness. I couldn't allow him to die – not yet. There's still so much he needs to see me do. There's still…I haven't proved my power over him. Will I forever be stuck in this emotional limbo? My heart hurts to think of him dead, and yet my head hurts to know he's living."

The little drawer in her desk opened whilst the lock melted away, as though made of ice rather than metal. Hel's eyes stared down into it as her hand reached forwards, and she produced a picture Lars thought destroyed.

It was a portrait of her family before the war had broken out. He remembered her telling him about it not long after they had come to Helheim, and always assumed the reason she conjured it back up was to better show him. Never once had it crossed his mind that she would keep it. The edges were worn, burnt, with little flecks of soot staining the middle, but what it showed was clear.

Loki held the infant Hel close to his chest, smiling at the painter with heartfelt glee. Angrboda stood beside him, dressed entirely in her wolf-hunting gear with a sword swung over her shoulder, like she had just returned from an enormous adventure and the portrait was an embodiment of that. Hel herself was so small she was almost a runt. Wondering green eyes stared forward and her lips were parted in a little, half-formed circle, all the while she kept her hand pressed against Loki's shoulder. It was the most peaceful Lars had ever seen his Queen. He couldn't remember when they were children, such as Yggdrasil's roots had stained his mind.

"I keep it for memory's sake," she explained, eyes soft as her fingers ghosted along the painting, "To remember where I come from. I fear Helheim would make me forget otherwise. He loved me as a baby – do you see how he smiles? And Mother…Mother was always strange. Enjoyed the hunts far more than child-rearing. I suppose that's why she loved my brother more."

In that moment, Hel looked more vulnerable than she had in a while. Her eyes flickered until they were green again and her pale features softened, as though she were reverting back to her childhood, before suddenly everything returned and she thrust the picture back into her drawer.

Walking back into the hall, the Queen patted her book-holder to the side and offered Fandral her most convincing smile. The blonde warrior was busy again – looking at her portraits, and trying his best not to be bitten by Garm. Its teeth were so sharp it could slice metal in half.

"Thank you for waiting," she said, walking to her dog to pat its head, "Be good while I'm gone, Garm. If the demons treat you badly, rip them to shreds!"

It barked at her like a puppy would, rolled over for a quick stomach rub before she stood, her hands straightening out her coat as she tried to gather her thoughts. Thor would be mourning his brother. The God would definitely be in a vulnerable spot, whether or not his hammer was at hand. She could use that. And she intended to, if it meant she could find out where the mysterious Aether was.

"Does Odin approve of my journeying to Midgard?" she mocked lightly as they walked out of the building. The coat around her thickened whilst Fandral just grit his teeth, knowing the cold would have seeped to his bones no matter what clothes he'd worn.

"I haven't told him, my Queen. I'm sure he will have no quarrel with it. He's a just man – you are your own agent, and he knows this."

She widened her eyes at him, taking his hand to clamber into her carriage. Fandral tried his best not to notice the skinless, eight-legged horse that pulled it.

"And you believe that?"

"King Odin and I have worked for many years to keep Asgard safe. When it comes to other realms, he believes the honour of decision falls to their ruler, whether or not that ruler chooses to include him in their plans."

"He sounds so noble," she turned her face away from the warrior to look out at her realm, "What happened to the king I knew?"

They rumbled on in silence. Somewhere in the distance a crow called, and its voice was so eerie that Fandral had to supress a shiver. Hel watched as the familiar world of ice moved past her, stuck in eternal winter, whilst somewhere beyond the horizon lay her Forests, with varying patches in spring, autumn, and snow.


	3. The Girl in Midgard

It had been a relatively peaceful day on Midgard – the Avengers Tower loomed over New York like a giant, peering at the citizens as they went about their lives. Everyone felt safer with that thing standing there. It was as if they had 'the People's Army' watching over them, ready to fight anything that might bring them harm.

A beam of light exploded over the top of the Tower. Shoppers looked up from where they stood, in the marketplaces and fancy, high-storey buildings, to watch as the multi-coloured rays shot themselves directly on the rooftop, only to fizzle out again like nothing had ever happened.

"Hey guys," Thor, who was sitting in the living room going over Asgardian strategies, heard Tony's voice over the public speaking system, "Sensors on the roof are going through the roof. Thor; expecting company?"

Though unused to the way things worked on Earth, especially in the Tower, Thor said 'no' and assumed JARVIS sent his answer to the billionaire. Steve's voice could be heard next; he talked about something bright flashing at the top of the building, and warned all of them to be on their guard in case it was an attack.

Hel straightened out her coat as she got used to the city air. It wasn't as clean as her own realm, with hints of soot and industrialisation in every breath, the scent of consumerism wherever she turned her head. And the sun! It was so bright, shining down from a clear sky and turning the ocean into blue fire.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Fandral moved to shade Hel's eyes. She had done it herself in a matter of moments, but she smiled at him gratefully and allowed her eyes to intensify with the light.

"I'm not used to it," she told him, gesturing with her hand, "Sunlight. My realm is so…dark. I've forgotten just how bright the world can be…"

As though lost in her own thoughts for a moment, the Queen walked to the very edge of the Tower to look down. Skyscrapers seemed to stand at every corner. A concrete jungle was laid out in front of her; the animals in it walked on two legs and wore familiar skin, just like the Asgardians, just like the old giants of Giantland, just like…everyone Hel had known. It only made her hate them more. Her eyes grew even stronger as she felt rage boil in the pit of her stomach, glaring at the creatures that her 'uncle' had sworn to protect and vowing, deep down inside her soul, she would see them exterminated like the vermin they were.

A loud noise pulled her from her thoughts. Fandral turned and flourished his sword in preparation, his apparent unease with Hel forgotten in his determination to protect her, although his shoulders eased when he saw who had arrived.

They stepped out of a long tube-like thing, with a rounded top and plated on the inside with shining metal. The Queen peered past the three who stepped out long enough to see a bar there, but the doors slid closed before she could make out anything else.

And there, with his golden mane and bulky frame, Thor recognised Fandral and, after a few moments of hesitation, threw his arms around him in a great bear-hug.

"Fandral!" he exclaimed, much to the confusion of the two men behind him, "How are you? How are the others? I've missed Asgard and its people!"

The swordsman laughed and responded in kind to his prince's hug, ignoring the blond and brunet that were still standing there. One, who sported a goatee and a black shirt with red letters on it – AC/DC, or nonsense to Hel – peered at both of them behind tinted glasses, and then noticed the pale young girl standing at the edge of the Tower. He nudged the blond beside him, much larger than himself, and tilted his head forward with eyebrows raised.

Sunlight poured down on her, making her features come out even sharper than before. Her amethyst eyes told them she wasn't human – far from it – but her small size and young face dragged some sense of protectiveness from the blond.

"Hey there," he said, his voice welcoming and his smile bright. He crouched down as though he were prowling towards her, raising his hands to beckon her forward. "Come away from the edge, pet. It's dangerous."

She stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. Some part of her said she could trust him; after all, what man with such a bright smile could be dishonest? And she stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes like hot rays boring into his forehead. The lummox that was Thor hadn't looked up to see the visitor, too wrapped up was he in welcoming his kinsman.

"Come on," he encouraged again when she didn't move, his hands twitching once more and his feet shuffling to bring himself closer, "We won't hurt you. Just walk towards me."

Tony noticed the way she stared at him before Steve did. The soldier always assumed the best in people – took things at face value, which meant he stood the potential of getting hurt. Something about the way this child carried herself…he watched her with an increasing interest, and soon enough Thor caught her out of the corner of his eye.

He froze. Hel kept her gaze firmly on Steve, her hands pressed to her sides and her tilted to one side, so one of her eyes could see him more clearly than the other. It was only once Steve spoke again that Thor registered who it was, letting go of Fandral in a mixture of shock and fear.

"What're you afraid of, pet? Come on – we're not that scary, are we?"

Thor reached down to clasp Steve's shoulder. The super soldier looked up at him, noting the way his eyes had widened and his mouth had fallen slack. Hel's eyebrows knitted in confusion, as though she were judging what they would do next, before Fandral broke the uneasy silence.

"I'm sorry we came unannounced, my prince. King Odin ordered me to go to her, and no one had told her…"

"Of Loki?"

"Yes!" she interrupted, "No one told me of my new orphan status."

Thor looked at Hel with sad, guilty eyes. Angrboda hadn't yet died, but it had been so long since they heard from her that it was only right she felt like an orphan. Every other man had fallen silent. In the back of Tony's mind, he made a note to research Loki some more, as he'd never realised that the God had a daughter, and much less that she was still so young. Steve did the same, though his mental notes tended to drift away as the day went on.

"He died with bravery and honour, Hel. He was a good man; he chose the wrong path."

Defensiveness rose within the girl, and she couldn't help blurting, "The wrong path given to him by a dishonest King. No matter. My father is dead. My Kingdom lies in mourning. Come; we must remember him as the man he was, the father he was not, and the great King he could have been had he been given the chance."


	4. Provoke

"Interesting mortals you have here," Hel said as she sipped on her water, "I'm surprised they haven't had me killed."

Thor peered across from her on the dining room table, wondering if she meant what she said. There was a faint spark in her eyes – something that told him she wanted him to react, but nothing he could bring attention to.

Instead, he took his own sip of water, "They would never harm you, Hel, even if they could."

"And you have faith in that?"

"I've faith in my team. And so far, that hasn't been misplaced."

"Perhaps not."

They sat in silence for a moment, just staring at each other in the tense atmosphere. In that time Thor was able to really look at his niece. She seemed older, but not by much; hardened eyes and a cruel air about her, a wickedness in her speech that hadn't been there before. Everything she did spoke of the horror she'd seen, such as her flinching away from the light and the intensity of her eyes, the way she mocked him without real need to. It were as if she were begging him to shout at her, like that would take away the reality of what had happened.

"Were you there?" he jumped when she spoke. The tension had reached its maximum point, and she had felt the need to break it. "When my father died. Were you there?"

He cleared his throat, blinking back tears when he thought of his brother's last moments, "Yes, I was."

"Was it painless?"

That surprised him. In all the time he'd known Hel, she would ask for a description of the scene first. Nothing about the person concerned her – she wanted to know about the place, the air, if the scent of blood was all around them as the man slipped into her realm. Sometimes, Thor wondered if she cared about the dead man at all. But by the way her eyes shone and her hard-slash mouth, she was impatient to know.

"No," he admitted, "He was stabbed."

"Hmm…"

"And he died nobly. He was loyal to Asgard in the end."

"You don't believe that as much as I. He was loyal to you. No matter how much you betrayed him, he was loyal to you."

"I never betrayed him."

"Oh? And is it not Odin's blood flowing through your veins? Is it not Laufey's blood that flows through mine? My father was a Frost Giant; to you Asgardians, he was nothing more than an asset."

"You speak lies," Thor's nostrils flared in warning, "Do not lie to me, Hel. I will not sit by and-"

"Threats to the Queen of Death? I may be made of flesh and bone, Thor, but do you really think I fear the inevitable?"

"I would never kill-"

"You already have – my father lies dead because of you."

"Hel, you can't possibly-"

"And because of you, my ties to Asgard are severed even more. Your precious Odin knows this. He sends for me, tries to include me in the universe in the hopes I will warm to him and trust him with my plans. But no; your King is a fool, and if he's a fool so are you."

Thor leapt to his feet as though possessed. His chair flew back and dented the wall, but he no longer cared about it. The anger flowing through him would have been enough to make Bruce see green, to topple entire cities if he let it out in his tremendous shout. He could have done more damage with Mjolnir at his side. But no, he wanted not to kill – he wanted to prove to his niece that he was still a good man, and to stop the thoughts of Loki's death drumming in his head.

"You're lying!"

"Am I?" Hel had kept eerily calm, sipping on her drink like none of what she was saying bothered her. "Your reaction tells me otherwise. Am I truly the liar here, Thor? Or have you lied to yourself? My father died in saving you. Lady Jane? She walks without ailment or affliction. She can tell herself she survived an ordeal which claimed a god. Can Loki do the same?"

Terror flooded through Thor's veins. For the first time since he'd walked away from Loki's body, he was starting to blame himself. There was no one around to tell him otherwise. Just the conviction in Hel's voice and the way she was staring at him, condemning him for the part he played in her father's murder.

"He died to protect us from Malekith – from the Aether!"

"And now you hide the Aether away!"

"I know where it is!"

"Wonderful! That makes up for my father's death! I can go to my realm and sleep in peace knowing he died for something squirrelled away!"

Thor turned, his eyes ablaze, and she almost smiled when she saw his vulnerability.

"I see what you're doing. I will never tell you where the Aether is, Hel. I know you too well, and have seen for myself what such power can lead to."

As if the entire world had collapsed before her, Hel saw the plans she made smashed. She'd underestimated Thor's foresight and thought him more narrow-minded than he was. In the back of her mind, she cursed herself for being so foolish, and for not remembering his strategic training – both on and outside of the battlefield.

But, as always, her face never changed. Her mind was the only thing that did.

"What use would I have for it?" Thor watched as she rose to her feet, calm, collected; an eerie version of her father in every way, "The thing that killed my father. But…he's not dead, is he?"

Thor's face paled again as she circled around the table, until Hel stood right beside her towering relative. The scent of unease was intoxicating. She revelled in it, hoping her very presence made him feel nervous rather than the subject they were talking about.

"You spoke as though you thought him dead." Thor muttered.

"And you believed me as though I tell the truth. Laufey's blood runs through these veins, Thor, do you not remember?"

"Hel…"

"Somewhere in that universe, my father still lives. He walks and breathes like any other creature. And perhaps he holds his head high, unafraid of what he is, now that Asgard's forgotten him."

Just before Thor could reach down and clap his hand over her mouth, Hel turned on her heel. She hummed a lullaby on her breath he hadn't heard before as she began to admire the room, adorned with marble countertops and strange, huge windows, much like the arched ones in her own home.

"My father lives, Thor. But why has he not yet told you? Do you think he fears you? Me? The mortals you call friends?" she gestured vaguely to the door, "Or perhaps it's something else keeping him at bay? That witch Sigyn. Did she ever give him a daughter?" another wicked grin. "I would have heard about it – no, the lies are-"

"Hel."

She stopped her monologue, her face turning that blank expression as she waited for Thor to continue.

"Hel," she turned when he pressed. A letter had appeared on the table – curly handwriting, and addressed to her underneath the red wax seal.

She took it from the table and broke the seal, opening it up until she could read it clearly.

_Come at once to Asgard._


	5. Abandoned

Much as Hel insisted he stay behind, Thor accompanied her throughout the Tower and back to the roof, fully intent on going to Asgard. If something was important enough to send her summons, it was important enough for him to be anxious about it.

"I will be fine by myself," she told him as they prepared to leave, "I've not come this far as a queen by relying on others. Especially not Asgardian brutes like you."

"Like it or not, Hel, Asgard is my home, and if it's in danger I want to know why. You and I will be travelling together, until we both have answers."

Without anything to say against it and realising her arguments wouldn't help, Hel accepted his guardianship. It wasn't like she needed his trust for anything. He would soon grow bored with ferrying her around the place; like so many other times, something would snatch his attention away and she could slip out from under him. It felt like she was being kept on a leash. Perhaps her great uncle thought she would attack were she left on her own?

"I hope you understand just how infuriating this is, Thor."

"No more infuriating than it would be to go to war for Asgard."

"Supressing what you feel won't negate its apparentness. Have you learnt nothing in your brief life?"

"I've lived countless more years than you, Hel."

"And yet, it seems, I'm the only one who has anything to show for it." She looked up at the sky as the clouds began to converge, forming that first burst of light that would soon envelope them. "I pray to you this is only a formality of my father's 'death.' That idiot King-"

"Who's still my father-"

"—will be explaining just why he feels this sudden urge of friendliness towards me. Either that, or he's wasted my time for nothing."

"Time," Thor mused, "That has little meaning to us, Hel."

In an instant, the light began to beam down towards them, and they were soon engulfed by the multitude of green, blue, purple and white. Hel looked over as they were both shoot through the air, only to realise her uncle hadn't taken his eyes off of her.

But as soon as they reached the Bifrost Bridge, he turned his attention to more important matters. The golden gears and twisting nozzle moved to hide themselves again, as though with a mind of their own, and Thor looked around expectantly for a face he'd known since boyhood.

A face that wasn't there.

"Where's Heimdall?" he asked, more to himself than anyone else.

"Why do you ask me?" Hel walked through the Bifrost Bridge's head and out onto the colourful platform, "He's the Gatekeeper. Perhaps he's off gallivanting with other pointless King's men."

Thor looked on annoyed, but followed her. The eerie quiet he noticed first. No one had come to greet them on the bridge, and he knew for a fact there would be carriages if the King had called a meeting.

"It's lovely," Hel said as if reading his thoughts, "The quiet. Makes me think of home. I miss my Realm – outside of it, this crown hardly feels important."

She was making conversation, albeit a strange one. What many didn't know was that Hel was quite talkative. Unless the situation called for guarded responses and carefully constructed arguments, the Queen would freely chat with anyone, to the point where people felt as though she had crawled into their minds and taken a piece of them away. Thor sometimes didn't know what to make of the rumours about his niece. Small talk was the least sinister, and so he took note that the others stood a chance of being true.

"I wonder where the carriages are?"

"Do you feel tired, Thor? Do your legs ache?" she teased.

"No!" he sighed, "No, I'm not tired – Father usually has someone waiting when royalty come to visit. Especially when they visit on a matter of urgency."

"Perhaps he knows I would rather walk. His carriages are…old-fashioned, to say the least."

"Such an eye for design," Thor noted, "What does your castle look like, Hel?"

"Like the inside of my heart."

They continued on in silence. As they went further along the Bifrost Bridge and through the towns, Thor noticed no people came out to greet them, and there were no banners on the palace to make it look grand. The whole place was as quiet as the grave. Even Hel felt unnerved as they walked through the lifeless streets.

Soon enough, she felt the need to speak again; "Where are Odin's guards? Where are your people? They always come to greet the prince – I remember that!"

"Keep on your guard. There may be more to this than we're seeing."

The pair moved through the abandoned place with weapons raised – Thor's Mjolnir and Hel's magic. Purple sparked in her open palms like a warning shot whilst they made their delicate way to the palace, careful to make sure no enemies skulked in the shadows.

Buildings towered over them without a single soul inside. No children played in the clearings; their toys were left in the sunlight, no owner or laughter to occupy them, and Hel found a niggling urge to go and place them in a funeral layout. It was her Realm, clutching at her and begging her to return to it.

"Open the door," she ordered when they reached the palace courtyard, its high double-doors like a shiny version of the gates to Helheim.

"We don't know what lies beyond it. Let me scout-"

"Whatever lies beyond it will have Mjolnir and my magic to fight against. Do you trust in your weapon, Thor?"

He gripped it in defiance, "With every breath I take."

"Prove it."

The doors swung open. Thor stepped out first, and closely behind him followed his tiny niece, her hands raised as she crept along the floor. The grand throne-room laid ahead of them – and on the throne…

"Welcome, Thor," said an eerily familiar voice, "Hello there, Helly."


	6. Throne Attack

Thor was frozen in place at the door. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was seeing – his brother, who not a few hours ago he thought dead, sitting on the throne with Odin's sceptre in hand, grinning like a madman as he looked down on his family.

"Trickster," Hel's voice held a note of admiration, her magic dispersing from her palms before she made her way into the throne-room, "I'm almost impressed."

"Almost? I should work harder, then."

Loki rose from the throne and walked down the steps, his grin a permanent feature on his face. It had been so long since he last saw his daughter. She was taller, he thought, perhaps even by a few inches, but no more than that. Images of her as a new-born ran through his mind, which he pushed aside so he could think clearly. It was no accident he had sent for her. And it was only faintly annoying that she had brought Thor in her stead.

No matter how much time had passed, Hel still felt twinges of anger when she saw her father. She would never attack him for it, but whenever she saw his face…a bolt of fury clutched at her heart, and she had to work to keep an indifferent air. It made her blood boil to walk in the gleaming palace of Asgard again.

"Why did you call me here?" the silence was broken moments before Loki could reach her, "Do you have nothing better to do with your time than waste mine?"

He smiled at his daughter, seeing the way she edged back as he approached, and pushed down his pain; "I've big plans for this place, Hel. Asgard and all its people."

"And where are its people, hm? There's no one outside."

"Sleeping. How else would I keep them docile while I begin my takeover? I simply used my magic to taint the water supply, and now everyone dreams."

"You madman!"

Thor's bellow made them both flinch. The warrior, finally brought out of his shock, charged forward, but it was a force-field of purple magic that made him stop dead in his tracks. The energy moulded and meshed together, forming a protective barrier for the pair so they could talk uninterrupted.

"So the whole of Asgard is unconscious?" she peered at him, "Everyone, including Heimdall?"

"Oh no, my girl," Hel opened her mouth when she heard her nickname, but her father was too quick for her to retort, "Some of them are down in the dungeon, and that's where they'll stay until I'm sure they will kneel to me. Fandral returned not long ago – he too was concerned, and now he dreams-" he gestured to a body lying at the side of the throne room, crumpled up like he had been thrown that way, "so it concerns him no more."

Thor couldn't hear what they were saying, but he followed Hel's shocked gaze and saw the man lying on the floor. He charged towards him, praying beyond everything that he was having a nightmare, as he hauled Fandral from his heap and began to check his vital signs.

"Attacking a man who did no more than follow your orders?" she sounded incredulous. Loki looked at her for a moment as though weighing up his response, and then smiled.

"He followed my orders when I was in Odin's guise. When he came back, I had revealed myself, and he couldn't quite accept my rule."

"Did you murder him?" she kept a note of interest in her voice. Hel's thoughts mostly revolved around death, Loki assumed, or else she would make a poor queen for Helheim.

He shook his head, "No – merely let him sleep. What good would it do to murder my master swordsman? He's unrivalled in all the Nine Realms; to kill him would be to cripple my armies."

"Odin's armies. Asgard's armies. You have no claim to the throne."

"I've more claim to it than Thor – I'm more equipped," he gestured to the grand outfit he wore, just his green robes with the crown fastened on his head, "and more intelligent. My aid in battle is crucial, as you well know."

"And yet they have won wars without you; won wars against you. You're fooling yourself, Trickster. If anyone has claim to Asgard's throne, it is the one who already sits on it," she turned her glowing amethyst eyes to him, that indifference becoming mirth for just a moment as she said, "Odin, and one day Odinson."

Loki felt rage envelope him. A second later, the purple force-field was exploded by a cloud of green, and Hel had been thrown across the room to smash into one of the columns. Shaken, but not deterred, she rose herself on her bruised shoulder and glared at her father.

"A good hit," she said as she rose to her feet, dusting her coat of column-bits, "but a bad move. Now Helheim will have even more hatred for you. Thor?"

The warrior was stunned by his brother's attack, to the point where he looked dumbly at his name being called and nodded. Hel seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal, despite the bleeding cut on her forehead, the crimson that trickled down her fingers as she clutched her injured side.

"Come; we must leave."

"Hel," Loki's voice was pleading, his rage subsiding so he could realise what he had done.

"Congratulations, Trickster," she interrupted, her hand up so her open palm was facing him, "You've begun a war."

Thor stood as she limped to the grand double-doors. He followed her, but cast a look back at Loki before they slipped through them, and felt his heart breaking no matter what the circumstances. His brother looked so confused, so angry with himself, as he watched his now injured daughter leaving him to his own devices, the promise of a war between them like ice on his heart.

The double-doors closed behind them, and Hel tried to keep herself upright as she clutched at her side. Tears of pain stung behind her eyes. They were like pincers of molten iron tugging at her retinas.

"Hel," Thor didn't wait for her to respond, instead lifting her from the crowd bridal style, "Are you alright?"

His voice was so genuinely concern that for a second, she didn't know how to respond. A distant part of her screamed to make him put her down and continue on in pain, but another, more reasonable part told her to take the ride, knowing that her body would give up on her if it went on through the agony.

"We must get back to your mortals. There's much to plan."


	7. Make Lying So Easy

"Hold it!"

A strange man with short hair jumped from a sofa when Hel and Thor walked into the room. The Queen couldn't quite tell how tall he was; a little shorter than her uncle but like so many others towering over her, and his eyes were a frosty blue. Dressed down in jeans and hoodie with an eagle-crest on the left side, he looked no more threatening than a civilian on the streets.

But despite his clothes, he had his fists up, his face scrunched into a snarl as he took the two into account. Thor had frozen, though there was a question in his eyes.

"Sorry," the strange man relaxed, lowering his hands to unclench at his sides, "Thought you were someone else."

A red-headed woman Hel hadn't noticed piped up from the sofa, "What, Clint – you think every time the Bifrost hits it's Loki coming back?"

"Can't be too careful when it comes to that psycho. If I let my guard down and he turns up, what happens then? Eyes on the sky, Natasha."

The strange man – Clint, and his friend Natasha – were both standing by then, abandoning the comfort of the black leather sofa so they could peer at the new arrival. Hel watched as they looked at each other, and wondered if they had some sort of telepathic connection.

"Who's this, Thor?" the woman bent down until she was eye-level with Hel, who played up to the innocent child. She clutched at Thor's leg, hiding her bleeding wounds so she could peek at them with one eye, the grin in her mind wider than she thought possible.

"This is my niece," Thor looked down, confused at Hel's behaviour, "She's…wounded."

Clint moved forward, this time with his hands raised so he wouldn't frighten the 'little' girl; "Where? Can we see?"

Thor moved his leg so she was revealed to them. Her coat by then was plastered with red and stuck to her body, stemming the flow from her wound, until it made it look like she had just stepped out of a fight with a lion.

"Oh my God!"

Another voice had entered the room. Both Gods turned and Hel instinctively raised her hands, until sparks of purple were flying from them. She didn't relax like her uncle when she saw the speaker; a man wearing glasses and with greying hair, a purple button-up shirt on to divert people away from his black jeans.

But he seemed uninterested by the magic suddenly erupting from her hands. Instead, he moved them out of his way as he collapsed to his knees, touching the coat gently to inspect the damage.

"How has she not passed out? This would've killed some people!" he was saying, almost to himself.

"Asgardians-"

The sharp look from Hel made Thor rethink his words.

"People from other realms are much stronger, Doctor Banner. I've no doubt she will recover, but can you give her something for the pain?"

"Sure, but I don't think anything but morphine will make her feel better. I've got some in medical."

They followed him, Hel on Thor's shoulder while the others went on foot. Clint and Natasha kept a careful eye on their younger guest as they winded through confusing corridors, long hallways and large, empty sections in need of a purpose, which right then didn't have one as Tony hadn't thought of it. The whole place made Hel's head spin. There were places in her castle she never went to, but still they were filled with things that held memories; they weren't just huge spaces filled with nothingness.

Thor wondered why his niece's attitude had changed so much. Surely she remembered that Tony and Steve had met her? Perhaps that was why she was doing it. Like her father, Hel was known to cause confusion wherever she went, sometimes just for her enjoyment. It was hard to know what she was up to without first knowing how she thought.

"Set her down there," Banner instructed, waving at an uncomfortable-looking white bed as he dived into a brown bag. The room they had stepped into was cleaner than a maid's apron. Pristine glass containers sat on sparkling white countertops, with strange contraptions lining the walls and see-through cabinets. Hel saw an array of plaques on one of the walls – they were written out to a Doctor Bruce Banner, and some had curly golden writing and promises of funding.

Hel was right about the bed being uncomfortable. She was almost sad to see her blood stain it.

"Your niece? So this is Hel?" Natasha brushed away Hel's raven hair so she could look into her eyes, so mesmerising and pure that she almost wanted them herself. They only intensified as she smiled.

"Yes," Thor looked confused, "How did you know?"

"Background research. Fury does his homework. Loki's daughter?"

Hel flinched away at her words. It was the only indication Natasha needed.

"Who hurt her?" Clint asked. He was more interested in the here and now; whatever relationship Hel had with Loki, he was prepared to brush it aside for the sake of what was right.

"Loki," Thor admitted, "He's taken the throne to Asgard. They were discussing something, and he flew into a rage. I've never seen him attack his daughter. He loves her."

Bruce was quick with the bandages. He removed Hel's coat and began to place them on her small body, covered only by a royal white shirt and black trousers.

"Love? Loki's not capable of love." Clint spat, "I can't believe you let her go to him, Thor. Even you've got to admit that your brother's one sandwich short of a picnic. Why would he want her, hm? Some sort of sick sacrifice ritual he's got to go through?"

"No! Nothing like that! Hel is-"

"Is he going to use her to enhance his own powers? I've seen legends talking about that. But they include sacrifices, too."

"No, Natasha-"

"She's going to be fine, once we can get the bleeding to stop."

"Thank you, Doctor Banner. Clint, Loki's-"

"Enough!" Hel's voice interrupted them all. Clint and Natasha froze, unnerved by the etherealness that she had brought into the room, as Bruce stepped back to look at her.

"Hel-" Thor tried not to give her a moment to speak, but she ignored him.

"The Trickster sent for me in the hopes I would approve of his plan. You think me a child, but I'm far from it. I'm a Queen. A Goddess. And now, I will help you pitiful little gnats to overthrow my father, because he's angered all of Helheim in attacking me. I let him live once. I will not make that mistake again."


	8. One Hand

Tony and Steve had both been absent to attend a press conference somewhere in a remote part of America, in the hopes that their being there would still the controversy that was the Avengers. Whilst Steve had taken the reigns at the event, Tony found himself too wrapped up in his phone to care much about what was going on, other than flicking his gaze up whenever he or his suits were mentioned.

Playing on a game of whatever was hot in the App Store, a message beeped on his phone.

_Strange, _he thought as he read Bruce's name, _he never texts me unless it's important._

The text itself was cryptic, and so unlike Bruce that it almost unnerved Tony to read; _Tony, Steve – come back to the Tower immediately. Someone's here._

Which was why they were charging over America in the fastest jet Steve had ever been on, wondering just who the mysterious stranger was. Apparently, Tony's bets that it was another relic of the 1940's weren't plausible, and Steve tried his best not to think it could be something used for chaos.

How wrong he was.

Hel watched the team around her work. She had been put in a conference room so Bruce could keep an eye on her condition, and she was too fearful to admit that her healing powers were weakened. As it was she could barely clean her blood. Before – in Helheim, she could create wounds and heal them in the blink of an eye, like a method of torture. On Midgard, it seemed that she could do no more than sit as her own precious blood slipped through the bandages.

"Are you in pain?" Bruce asked when she winced, his ever-watchful eyes turned towards a computer just right of the table.

"I'm quite alright," she lied. Clint sat across from her, rocking on his L-shaped chair with his arms folded over his chest, his gaze never leaving Hel's face while the others busied themselves with tactics. He was disconcerting. It was obvious he didn't trust her father – for what reason, she didn't know – but the way that extended to her, as though she had walked in with his sceptre declaring war…she liked Clint. He wasn't a fool. It made a nice change from the mortals she'd heard about.

Tapping of a keyboard filled the air. Rustling paper joined it in a strange, half-thought ensemble, broken up with the occasional cough or sniff. Hel's amethyst eyes took in the room around her. It was dark, lit only by a sharp, white light above them, which didn't extend far enough to chase the shadows from the corners. The table, sleek and stylish, had a few unnoticeable stains on it from the bottom of coffee mugs, a hint of dust here and there that cleaners had missed. Behind her, Hel could sense there was life; a potted plant with huge leaves, red and in distress, for the lack of natural sunlight was slowly killing it.

Soon enough, the quiet felt just like home. All it needed was Lars or Geneva wandering the halls, Garm chewing at the femur of some corpse by her feet, or even Orvar as he made his nonsensical noises of command. She sunk into her seat, revelling in the peace that she know wouldn't last.

"So," Bruce broke the silence again as he turned on his seat, taking his glasses from the bridge of his nose to peer at Thor, "What's the plan?"

Thor sighed; "I do not yet know. Loki's powers are dangerous, so a frontal attack is suicide. What we need is an army."

"Well, we haven't got one," Clint pointed out, much to Natasha's glares, "And your psycho brother would probably destroy it if we did. We're going to have to stealth attack him."

"Without knowing the territory first? Please; we'll be fumbling around in the dark. He'd have the advantage."

"We've done that before."

"Before, we weren't dealing with a proverbial God with a severe inferiority complex." Bruce gave his friend a hard stare as he spoke, "Sneaky would be good, and we'll probably have to use it at some point, but for now we've got to find a way to make sure Asgard isn't in danger."

Hel allowed them to bicker and argue over the tactics they used. For her, none of it mattered. She could care less if Asgard burned under their attack. She could care less if their children were left orphans or mothers were left husbandless. All she wanted at that point was to see her father suffer, his blood pouring on the stone floor of the palace, as she declared to everyone that he was under her mercy.

Her side throbbed as the debate went on, yet she tried to keep it off of her face. No matter how little it changed, Bruce seemed to notice. She liked Bruce, too. He was more intelligent than the mortals she'd heard about. He saw details and read signs that would escape the notice of many people. In her readings of Midgard and study of Midgardians, she hadn't heard of one who could detect pain at just a glance.

"Might I make a suggestion?"

The table went silent as Hel leaned forward. Her back was straight and her crown's jewel sparked at the top of her head, hinting at them to be silent, whispering of power they could scarcely imagine.

"What is it, Hel?" Thor asked.

"The Trickster has the upper hand, but it's raised so high he can't see below."

"What?"

"The archer is right enough – we must surprise Loki, in a way he'll never expect us to."

"And how will we do that?" Bruce leaned forward, resting his body on his elbows; "We don't know Asgard's territory. We have no clue how to get in without the Bifrost, and I'm guessing you tend to notice when that thing's powered up."

Hel smiled at him, and he swore he felt eternal ice fill his soul. As she moved forward to tilt her head down, everyone's eyes followed her, all of them wondering if she was truly as interested in saving lives as they were.

"You forget," she muttered, "Where Loki has the upper hand, we have the lower. We can sneak past him without knowing, for he cannot see us. Magic is a tricky thing, Doctor-"

Purple enveloped her hand until it vanished completely;

"—and I'm quite the tricky wielder."


	9. Question Time

The fact it was Hel visiting them was a little underwhelming. Steve did his best to not look too on edge as he spotted the girl, her glowing amethyst eyes staring into his soul, whilst Tony audibly sighed.

"Oh, look," he said when they strode into the conference room, "It's Little Miss Purple."

"It's nice to see you as well," her sarcasm bit like a wild dog, "But we've more important matters to attend to – pleasantries will have to wait."

Steve took the seat beside Clint, who had fallen silent some time before they arrived. The archer was no more trusting of Hel than he was of Loki. Something about her didn't sit right with him; the sound of her voice or the way she moved, how she could peer at anyone and they felt like they were in eternal winter. It was all very magical, and very worrying. His face warred with concern and guardedness as the man beside him glanced over everyone.

"Fill us in."

It took a matter of moments for him to understand the gravity of their situation; nonetheless Steve listened to every detail. The urgency Thor described everything swept everyone into stunned silence, watching as he gesticulated and exclaimed, hoping there was some exaggeration to the countless people under Loki's spell.

By the time it was over, the God looked exhausted. He glanced left and right to see all of the eyes staring at him, and then lowered his head so he could catch his breath.

"When Loki attacked Hel, I knew him to be mad."

The eyes turned to her. Hel did everything she could not to squirm under their gaze, deciding to look straight at Steve as if in mutual agreement.

"Are you alright?" he asked. The question threw her, but only for a moment.

"Quite," she cleared her throat, "His spell was only meant to wound me, and it did just that. What I'm concerned about are the immediate effects of his takeover."

"The danger to the people? Didn't think that'd be up your alley," Tony's words were a prelude to his question. Luckily for him, Hel was a master at reading between the lines.

"I care not for the people or for Asgard's traditions – all I care about is my realm. If he sends the people to sleep, they do not fight, and that means famine and disease can't be created in the fastest way. For all I know, they won't age either. People who meet their ends outside of war come to me. People who sleep forever do not."

"So, what you're saying is, you're only looking to take Loki off the throne so people can die?" Clint leaned forward, "That's insane. That's sick. Why would we help you do that? We're removing Loki because it's the right thing to do – because he's a menace and he'll hurt people."

"Nevertheless, we're working towards the same end. I want to see the Trickster cast from the throne as much as you do."

A silence filled the room. Hel hadn't spoken about what went on between her and Loki, and the curiousness of Tony's character meant that he so desperately wanted to know. Something must have caused this rift between father and daughter. If it was just a matter of jealousy and pride, he was sure Hel would just have attacked him outright. There was something more to the situation than they were seeing and, if it was buried beneath the surface, Tony would drive himself made until he'd uncovered it.

"Before we do anything," Steve interrupted the still air, pattering around the table for a notepad and pen. His hands made a tune no one recognised; one of the unknown pieces of the '40's, perhaps. "Does anyone have a pen?" he asked when he found a piece of paper.

Bruce pulled one out of his pocket. His eyes sparked with questions, but none fell from his lips as he passed it over to his friend.

"Hel," Steve clicked the ballpoint, ready to take anything and everything down, "We're going to have to ask you a few questions."

She sighed; "Very well, then." There was nothing a mortal could ask that she couldn't work her way around. At best, they would ask her questions of her power, perhaps even of the relationship between her and Asgard.

But Steve had a different route to those questions than she anticipated.

"What's your name?" the blond man's eyes left her for a second, and then returned when he'd readied his pen.

"Hel."

"Last name?"

"Queen Hel."

He looked at her with a faint trace of annoyance. She could only stare back.

Despite her answer, he wrote down something and soldiered on; "Living known relatives?"

"Mother and Father."

"They are?"

"A cow and a goat. You know who my father is. Why do you need to know my mother?" her eyes stared daggers into his soul. His questions were intruding on an aspect of her she didn't like, and so she attacked them with everything save actual violence.

Thor sensed her discomfort enough to provide a helping hand; "Hel's father is Loki Laufeyson, and her mother is Angrboda of Giantland."

"Giantland?" Tony snorted, "Creative with the names there."

"Where is Giantland?"

"Gone," Hel interrupted, a hint of melancholy in her voice, "It's been gone for a long time now."

Her eyes went distant as she lowered her head slightly. The sudden change made everyone stop. Before, they had thought Hel a being that consisted of nothing but chaos and disregard, something that was born as she was to that day. Now that they saw and heard the sadness running deep within her, the team actually took a moment to think about what she'd been like before that anger.

Steve was gentle when he asked the next series of questions; "How old are you?"

"Old enough to know-" she stopped herself mid-sentence, and then sighed, "I'm nearly five hundred and eighty-five years old."

He tried his best not to let his eyes bug out of his head.

"How long have you been Queen?"

"Three hundred and five years."

"In terms of age in equivalence to human development," he looked more at Thor and Bruce at this point, "What stage would you put Hel in?"

Thor didn't know, but with the help of Bruce he estimated Hel to have been – in human terms – nearing her fifth birthday.

"That's…that's…" Steve looked back and forth at Thor and Hel. The idea that someone so young could have so much responsibility made his head spin. Even in the war, where children were tasked with raising younger siblings as their mothers went to work, or were themselves 'employed' to bring in a small income, he hadn't thought anyone would entrust such a burden on someone that young. But as he looked into the glowing amethyst eyes, took into account her tiny proportions and stunted height, Steve wouldn't have said she was much older.

Hel nodded her head; "What else?"

It took him a few moments. Eventually, the initial shock of the revelation went away, and he found himself able to concentrate whereas the others were still stunned.

"What height do you expect yourself to grow to?"

"I've stopped growing."

"Do you have any relationships outside of family?"

"A dog called Garm and nine demons in my realm."

"How did you come to assume a throne so early?"

Hel froze again. Something told her she could trust the people around her, at least to the extent that was revealing her tragic past.

"A war." she said vaguely, and wouldn't go on until Thor prompted her, "The Fire Giants and their king, Surtur, began a war against Asgard. My father lived with us at the time. When he was called away to help in the conflict, Surtur planned an attack on Giantland to cripple my people – I assume their main objective was to kill me."

She let that sink in for a moment. When it seemed clear that no one would interrupt her, the queen went on.

"When they failed to do that, I was taken into the protection of several survivors and their children, including a baby. We wandered the Forests for a long time."

"And from there, how did you get the throne?"

"Something…happened. The baby was stolen in the night. When its mother went missing some weeks after, other mothers went to look for her, and they never returned. We were left with Eir. But her mind was breaking. After an attack against me and a failed attempt to contact Asgard, I put my people first. When Eir was dead, I formed a new civilisation, and there we lived in peace for some eighty years."

She stopped again. Tony rocked on his chair for a minute, "And then…?"

"When it came to me that the King of Helheim was dead, I went to Asgard using an enchanted pool. I asked for the throne and after some persuasion, was given it. Since then I've played an integral part in the processes of life and death. Where souls come to seek refuge and peace, I judge if they are worthy of it."

"Wait," Clint looked up, "You just asked for the throne and they handed it over?"

"After some persuasion," she repeated, but it wasn't enough to satisfy him.

"There's got to be more to it than that."

"If you must know, Odin knew of my survival and still chose not to save us, in the hopes I'd die in the wilderness. My death fuelled Father's energy against the invading forces, and that meant more to Odin than I ever could. In light of Loki's true parentage, I can understand why."

Hel's eyes had become some bright that they almost blinded the people in front of her. Fingers drummed against the desk and her breath was heavy, as though she was struggling to keep her cool, but despite her flaring nostrils she kept a level head about things.

Steve's questions were coming to an end. He knew he would think of more later on, but decided that Thor could always bring Hel to them when he did.

"Only three more to go," he decided. "What do your powers consist of?"

"Magic," she said, then added, "I'm a born magic-wielder. We're a rare breed – dying, if I remember rightly."

"Do you have any weaknesses?"

"The fine music of a harp and a glass of spiced wine."

He rolled his eyes with a slight air of amusement. Finally, the last question came.

"Are you prepared to take action against your own father?"

She smiled at him; "Good mortal – that's the only reason I'm here."


	10. Little Queen Hel

After her questioning, Hel was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her realm and sleep in familiar surroundings. But as she announced her plan to leave, the Queen found Thor had a few objections to it.

"No, Hel," he told her as they stood in the fading sunlight of the Tower's communal hall, filled with gadgets and games consoles and a whole menagerie of things Hel didn't recognise, "I can't let you go back to Niflheim. Not until Loki's threat has been removed."

"And just why not?!" her face had become inscrutable, which was dangerous. Thor remembered many times when that blank expression was just a preface for total rage. He could already see the expensive furniture being thrown across the room, destroyed and smashed, whilst whips of purple energy erupted from his unintimidating niece.

Which was why he chose to say his next words carefully, as slowly as he could manage to reiterate his point; "You are in danger. If he knows you to be alone, he may come after you. I can't risk your being hurt if he attacks you again."

"You're not seriously suggesting I'm incapable of protecting myself?!" she glared at him, her voice verging on a shout as the fury rang clear, "When he attacked me, I was unprepared. Next time he shall not be so lucky. If he were to walk through my castle gates, he would have only succeeded in signing his death warrant."

"Still, I can't risk it. This is no longer an isolated matter, Hel. It involves Asgard, Midgard and Helheim, and if we let it develop any more it could engulf all Nine Realms in war."

She turned away from him. Behind her was a large television, big enough to have surround-sound systems and sofas which were just a little bit taller than herself. Perhaps built to accommodate some of the people she'd seen. The Captain – Steve, she remembered – was a large man, whose bulky frame probably couldn't fit on an average-sized sofa.

Her eyes intensified as she tried to draw all her destructive feelings into a big ball. She could feel it brewing inside the pit of her stomach like it would envelope her, turning her into nothing more than being of pure energy, but no matter how much she tried it wouldn't leap out as a whip. It were as if a wall stood between her and her magic in this realm; she couldn't cast complex spells, and even the simplest took all of her skill.

The television remained unharmed, but her own incapability left Hel feeling weak. And now that the decision to go home was being ripped away from her, she couldn't help but lose her cool.

"You seem to forget my crown!" she shouted, "You insolent Asgardian whelp! I may not have your muscles or your tolerance for mortals, but what I do have is my right as Queen! You will allow my passage home or you will suffer my wrath!"

Thor could see the exact moment when Hel lost her prized veil of indifference. Her pale face was tinged red, her glowing eyes flickered as they grew so intense and then momentarily turned green, until she had regained control of her thoughts enough to change them back again. He thought how exhausting it must have been to keep a constant spell on her eyes. Her hatred of her father had caused her to alter herself, yet he hadn't the heart to tell her that she still reminded him of Loki, with her sharp features and her pale skin, her lust for knowledge in a universe so good at keeping secrets.

He extended his hand out to her in a show of faith. It only enraged her more, causing her to fly backwards as though burnt, and crashed into the solid legs of Steve behind her.

"You will not keep me prisoner!" she span around to face the super soldier. Her anger was so great that it was spilling to anything in the room, even hapless mortals who had just wandered in to check the commotion. Steve seemed to take it in his stride, looking down at her like he would any situation, watching as she worked herself up more and more.

"It's not as a prisoner, Hel! You are our guest!" Thor was desperate to calm her down. Unlike his brother, he hadn't been dealing with children long enough to understand their subtleties, how to relax them in an unwelcome yet necessary turn of events. The God knelt down on one knee with hands outstretched as the deafening screams echoed around the room.

"I'll see you all murdered! Let me go! I'll kill you all!"

Hel was getting out of control. She let out shouts that would have made normal ears bleed, and continued her assault on them as her magic failed to do so. In all of what was going on – and Thor's growing concern for her safety – Steve remained calm, perhaps unnervingly so, until he felt that he had to take the reins of the situation.

Placing a large hand on Hel's head, the super soldier pressed down only a little bit until she was still. The screams died in her throat as she realised she couldn't move. Her throat burned so much that she wanted to throw up, but she kept her eyes stuck on the man in front of her, never taking them away while she made little moves to escape.

"Take your hands off me."

"Not until I can be sure you're not going to hurt yourself."

"You will let go of me or you will die!"

"You're not in a position to be making those threats, Hel. I'm sorry for what's happened to you, and for the circumstances we've met, but now that you're on Earth and in the Tower your safety is my number one concern. Do you understand me?"

"I'll wait until you sleep. I'm no stranger to it!"

"Maybe not, but that's neither here nor there."

Steve looked down at the trembling girl under his hand. His free hand was pressed against the doorframe, holding himself up as he bent one of his legs and leaned over her, as though non-verbally telling her he was her protector. He came from a time when children were looked after no matter what. And even though he knew this 'child' in front of him had been alive longer than anybody he knew, and had seen horrors only documented in legends, her youthful appearance made him naturally protective. Steve would look after Hel, even if that came at the risk of his own life.

Moments passed in silence. A bird flittered past the large windows opposite them, its shadow dancing with the fading sunlight. The whole room was layered in an air of unease, as if one move would shatter the peace.

Then Hel nodded. Steve swore he could see tears stinging her eyes, but didn't call attention to it as he released his hand from her head.

"We'll have to confiscate your crown and books until we're sure you can't use them against us."

"No!" she began; Steve spoke over her.

"Once we're certain they don't pose a threat, we'll give them back undamaged."

"I won't have mortal men touching my things!" Hel turned desperately to Thor, her control of everything slipping from her again as she felt authority taken from her. "Thor! Tell him! No mortal may touch my things! They belong to me!"

There were no words from her uncle. Instead, he simply rose to his feet, walking to stand beside Steve until they were the dominant figures in the room. They were so large over her that for once, Hel felt small.

And feeling small made her feel as though she was insignificant. Walking back until she had hit the wall, putting enough space between her and the men to fit a full grown elephant, Hel glared at them in defiance.

"I won't have you-" she began, but was cut off again.

"You wanna go for some ice cream?" Steve was suddenly smiling. It brightened the room a bit, like the sun had bounced back into the sky.

Hel glared at him. She waited until he spoke again, mainly because she had no reply.

"I know this great little place that stays open til ten. It's real pretty in there, too. Come on – you'll love it."

He outstretched his hand and turned out to the hallway, looking back over his shoulder to extend his invitation. Something about him seemed familiar. He himself meant nothing to Hel, but the way he was talking, the way he was acting…

Enticed and intrigued, the Queen stepped forward, making sure to avoid his hand as she stalked towards the front door.


	11. Lonely Souls

Asgard was quiet. With so many people sleeping, Loki felt like he was ruling a lost civilisation. His throne became cold as he replied Hel's visit in his head, wondering why he had attacked the one person he wanted in his life, while above him the soft hum of energy rippled through the air.

On Midgard, her power would be weaker; he knew that much. It was the same with him when he was captured. Something about the way their atmosphere was made up, how the air was polluted with the stink of their society – it meant Asgardians were slightly weaker there than they were on their homeland, and magical creatures' abilities were mostly ripped away from them. Loki could only imagine the torment Hel was going through, yet knew she would put up with it if it meant she could see him suffer.

A walk would clear his head. He walked for what seemed like hours, though his thoughts never trailed far from his daughter. The grand buildings stood high in the sky, silent and void of life, whilst clearings were stilled filled with the toys of laughing children, abandoned and confused. Their painted faces almost looked betrayed when Loki stared at them. Indeed, they felt lost now that their owners had discarded them, and needed no explanation why they had been left rather than put away. People always left things when they were done with them. They cared not for the scars or memories they held, just for the future that stood so unknown before them.

He went into Sigyn's house to see his ex-wife, who by then had set about elevating her status. Many men clambered for her hand. They were right to. As Loki looked at her sleeping on the bed, brilliant blue eyes shut with her hair fanned out over the pillow, he remembered just how mesmerised he had been when he first met her, many years before he'd met Angrboda and left for Giantland. The air stilled with each breath she took, like she was in control of the elements around her, the wonderful golden interior of an inherited house.

Hel sat in a booth of red leather and strange tables, with tops decorated in an almost sparkly blue as waitresses wheeled around on roller-skates. Pirouettes and twirls had the last few remaining children mesmerised, but not Hel, who kept her gaze fixed on the blond man in front of her.

It was no surprise that Thor had left them, since the incident before had shaken him so much that he'd felt the need to relax himself. Steve, truthful to his word, took Hel to that pretty little place he had been talking about, though she could see nothing but brightly coloured car-ends and an oddly shaped bar just beside them, with stools of different shades standing at individual heights. The waitresses' skirts fanned out as they rolled between each table. A pretty brunette looked at all of the ones surrounding her, and then came up to the mismatched pair in the booth.

"Hello there," she said in a friendly voice, crisp and clean – a nice change from those overbearing fake accents they were hearing everywhere, "What can I get you?"

As Steve ordered their food, Hel stared at the woman. She was very familiar; blue eyes and brown hair, her nose a slender curve on a face which was unblemished and soft. Whatever ungodly hairstyle she was sporting – later, she discovered it to be called a French Bun – kept most of her locks in place, but a few rebellious strands broke free, untameable and defiant. The waitress felt Hel's eyes on her, yet said nothing as she jotted down Steve's order.

"And this little lady will have the chocolate sundae, thanks."

Before she could say anything, Hel was cut off by the waitress; "Yep, I've got that all down. It'll be done in just a second. Is this your daughter?"

The Queen glared at her. Even to a blind man they couldn't be any more different. Whereas she was pale with dark hair, Steve's skin was tanned with hair that eclipsed the sun, confusing the birds flying above them until they crashed into each other. Hel's entire being squealed differently from the super soldier beside her. It hummed with another presence, a dominant presence, and whispered of unspeakable horrors hidden below the surface.

"Yep," Steve felt the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop then, "This is Helena."

"I prefe-"

"She's beautiful!" the waitress smiled and scrunched her face at her unattractively, "She looks just like a princess! Well, we've got special deals on for royalty this evening – free ice cream with a responsible adult! I'll be back in just a moment."

And with that, the waitress rolled away to the bar.

Hel fixed Steve with a hard glare; "Daughter?"

"What else was I supposed to say?"

"I assume babysitter was out of the question?"

"It didn't come to mind."

"How could she think we were related?!" the Queen rolled her eyes, tilting her head towards the waitresses flying in all different directions, "Nothing about me resembles you!"

"You walk on two legs and have a head. A nose, too. That's like me."

"I'm also hundreds of years older than you; I've been in wars!"

"While I respect the hundreds of years older, you're not the only one here who's seen their fair share of fighting."

"You're putting yourself on par with my father – do you want to be known as Loki's successor?"

"Whoever knows you're Loki's daughter won't be being told I'm your father now, will they?"

"Whatever the case – Helena?" her laugh was dry and humourless, "Why not Hel? Why not Amethyst? My eyes-" she touched the corner of her socket as though further proof of her argument.

Steve smiled at her and folded his arms across his chest; "Let's not give people any more reason to know you're 'different.' Besides, Helena's a pretty name!"

"Helena is the name of a Midgardian, and I'm no Midgardian."

"Well, pet," the super soldier leaned forward to brush one of her locks out of her eyes, and Hel found herself too impressed with his bravery to flinch away, "On Earth, you're Helena. And apparently you're my daughter. So stop arguing with Daddy now."

She snorted at him. Without much else to say, she tilted her head towards the waitress still staring at them.

"That special 'deal' was only to gain your favour." She pointed out.

"I know," Steve said as he sipped on some water, "But why ruin something good?"


	12. Make the Plans

"Only through constant vigil and sacrifice will we defeat the Trickster. It is my guidance that will lead you to victory."

Hel addressed the agents of SHIELD like she would address a royal gathering. They stood there, each enthralled by the authority she exuded, mesmerised by her glowing amethyst eyes and stunned by how she was. She was above them, high up on a platform that was attached to a lift, where normally Fury would stand in the chrome, metallic world of SHIELD headquarters.

"Through hardship I've risen, and now through hardship you shall rise. Where Odin failed, you shall succeed. If all of the Nine Realms are engulfed in war, it's not Helheim that will suffer – it is you, the Midgardians, the mortals, with your weak lives and fragile existences."

Steve watched as Hel spoke so openly about her hatred for them. Since her arrival a few days before, she had made no secret that she thought herself better than most of the people she met, and only showed the barest tolerance for Clint and Bruce. Her relationship with Tony interested him more. The girl would watch as the genius danced back and forth between his inventions, caught in the limbo that was his thinking, all the while humming to herself a tune they didn't know.

The crowd looked up when she raised her arms, as though gesturing to a higher power, "Survival comes at the blood of the Trickster! Survival in its purest form; stripped bare of the pretence we call civilisation, made naked amongst the wilderness that is other people! Can you not see the future? Can you not hear the magic humming through the air? Your world is a blight on my people, and yet here you must remain if we are to keep the balance. For this, the Trickster must die."

Steve leaned over to whisper into Thor's ear. The entire team was watching her, judging the way she addressed SHIELD to get a better feel of her authority. Hidden in a small box behind a one-way mirror, it felt like they were looking in at an alien territory, filled with creatures they didn't have any kinship with.

"Doesn't she get upset thinking like this?" he asked.

"No," Thor replied, eyes never leaving his niece, "For too long she's carried the scars of Muspelheim's war. We accept now that Loki's daughter died in the wilderness. What you're seeing here is Queen Hel; the imposter in her place."

"She's just a kid, Thor," Bruce pointed out, "An old kid, but a kid all the same. She's got to have tonnes of psychological damage – people don't just 'change.'"

The God watched as she twirled on her heels; "No, they do not. But Hel is no ordinary creature, and no amount of talking can change her into the girl I knew. My niece is lost now. Only Hel remains."

Steve felt infuriated by this willingness to accept what happened. If even Bruce was talking about her pain, it must have been real. A few times they had spoken with each other, him and the young Queen, and each time they did it felt like Hel was revealing something new about herself, something more tragic than just countless decades in a lonely land. The wars she spoke of made him want to weep on her behalf, since it seemed she was incapable of doing so. In fact, ever since that outburst which led them to the ice cream shop, Hel had become unnervingly detached from everything around her – a state which Thor claimed was normal.

"Bruce," Steve gestured for the scientist to go to him. He watched a few more moments to catch part of Hel's speech, all the while twisting his body and scuttling towards Steve.

"The bonds of loyalty you have to your men must now be unbreakable. Whatever the Trickster believes he can use against you, he will. Through villainy and deceit, he will take you apart at the seams, but only if you allow him. I understand mortals may find this difficult. But you must trust in the strength of you walls; if not that, trust in the strength of mine, and take like me a vow to fight him until death."

The pair left through a small door, and found themselves out in the brightly lit hallway that connected the main room to the research labs. Pale blue walls and a paler floor made up the unremarkable site, which had seen more than its fair share of disasters.

Steve leaned heavily against one of the bars running along the wall. Like he felt sick, he took in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it go.

"I never thought…"

"Something like this would happen?" Bruce interrupted as he paced along the hall, "We should have really expected this. When Gods and Norse mythology were thrown into the mix, anything became possible."

"Still, I never thought we'd be looking at a five year old queen telling people we have to kill her father. It's just…sick. It's wrong. It feels like everything I've fought for – peace, justice, kindness – it's just all…"

He trailed off again. Bruce felt sorry for his friend; he knew what it was like to be disillusioned from something, to feel that everything was spiralling out of your control and would soon mean nothing. He walked up to him, hand pressed against his face as the other rested in the inside of his elbow, and looked at him with thoughtful eyes.

"Fake? Unachievable?" he offered, and then went on, "No, it's not. It's just very far off in the future. Does that mean we should stop fighting for it? No, because otherwise everyone would take that approach, and we'd never get any closer than we are now."

Steve went to say something. There were words lined up in his mind, but it seemed Bruce was having no one take his moment.

"I'm not going to lie to you; this whole situation makes me feel sick to my stomach. You know what's worse? Clint might blame Loki, but if you listen to Hel's story it sounds like he wasn't to blame. It was Odin's fault that she was left there; it looks like he would've fought for her if he knew she was alive."

"How much truth do you think there is to that?"

"Put yourself in his position. Do you think you would've saved her?"

"Of course I would, if she was my daughter…" he trailed off again. His brain had wandered down that road a few times since Hel arrived, especially after their trip to the ice cream place. It wasn't just a once-off; soon enough, he was telling interested passers-by that the girl was his child, and she for some reason hadn't rebuked him. A few times, she had even gone as far to clutching at his hand, staring at the city like a deer caught in headlights.

Bruce noticed his sudden change, and spoke in a soft, concerned voice, "You can't get too invested in her, Steve. It's tempting – she's young and looks to need protection – but you've heard some of the things she's done. We're lucky she can't use her powers here to the extent she's capable of."

"I can't just let her keep hurting so badly, Bruce. I'm sworn to protect the public; any public, including young children. She's too vulnerable."

"I know it's hard Steve, trust me I know. But, think about it this way. What will you do if you have to neutralise her? If she turns round on us after we've beaten Loki and tries to take the throne? You can't doubt that's a possibility. And it's a possibility we need to have plans for."

"I won't make that plan until we're absolutely certain that's what she's going to do."

"She's Loki's daughter; how much more certain can we get?"

"Don't judge her on that, Bruce."

"Look, all I'm saying is we need a plan of attack. Something that will get her under control if she turns on us. It's better we make one rather than leaving it to SHIELD."

"I don't know. I'll think about it." The super soldier rolled his shoulders for a moment, as if uneasy with the whole situation. Who would have thought his service would one day lead him to neutralising a centuries old magical child? He could have imagined destroying Nazi missives and documents, but never being faced with such a moral dilemma as this.

"Steve."

His blue eyes flicked back up to Bruce, who was staring at him as though they had just walked into dangerous territory.

"Don't get too close to her. If we're right about Loki having saved her if he'd known, I'd warrant he still cares. And who knows how jealous that psycho can get?"


	13. In the Dead of Night

Hel stood over the Captain's bed. Starlight glistened in the small patch of sky visible through the window, which had its curtains drawn for some unknown reason. Had she taken the time to glance at it, the Queen would have noticed a chair propped against an old chest-of-drawers, and seen on its cushioned seat a sketchbook. But she didn't care for her surroundings. Hel had come to see the Captain, as she had done so many times since their trip to the ice cream place.

She always came with the same intention – with the knife hidden in her long coat sleeve, she always had a purpose. Its blade glinted in the moonlight streaming from the window. The reflection cast luminous orbs on the wall which moved with her hand, and every time she wanted to marvel at how dark a place could become. Not very when she considered her realm, though the very thought of Helheim made her feel homesick.

On the bed, Steve slept without so much as a clue to Hel's presence. The super soldier's hair stuck up in different directions and his shirt clung to him, whilst his snoring echoed around the otherwise silent room. His nose was bent at a funny angle as he pressed one side of his face into the pillow, craning his neck in a way that caught Hel's notice. It would be so easy to do what she had come to. He looked so at peace; it would be a simple matter of one cut, and the Captain would never be troubled again.

His arms made him look like he was chained up, bent at the elbow so that his forearms disappeared under his pillows. Even they were as white as untouched snow. Tidiness was something she had come to equate with Steve; often, she saw him picking up after people in the Tower, throwing away discarded wrappers and leftover foods too long kept in the fridge. It was something she remembered the maids doing when she was a child. Granted they did it out of servitude and Steve did it out of a sense of duty.

Sighing quietly, Hel stepped on a small box Steve kept under his bed until her waist was above the mattress. Her glowing eyes stared down at the soldier before her, so vulnerable and at ease, with no need to fear the creatures in the dark. He'd faced them all before, had he not? All of those bedtime nasties that siblings scared each other with, all those imaginary ghosts and ghouls that lurked in the shadows and waited for midnight. They were all just things Steve had come to accept as a part of life. Hel was something he'd come to accept.

She paused. The blade glinted again in the moonlight, casting its orb against Steve's face. Acceptance. She couldn't say she had been short of it – as a baby, she was loved and revered by her people, by her parents. Pictures of priceless memories stuck in her mind of Angrboda leaning over her crib, giving her a furtive kiss as the young Queen slipped into unconsciousness. She remembered with some anger Loki spinning her round in the air, her small arms hanging down as that familiar grin he always wore grew wider on his face. And as a child, her small group of friends had never called her different, never had the heart to point out her size and claim that she was anything less than a stunted giant.

But why then did she pause when she went to kill Steve? She had planned to do it ever since they went to the ice cream place. As that insufferable waitress pirouetted and pranced in front of him, trying to catch his attention, Hel had plotted his demise with the same vigour she plotted to escape back to Helheim. And the way he stared at her instead of the woman made her think he knew what she was planning. But every time she crept into his room, knife at hand and plan in mind, he slept as though he had no idea what she was doing.

_Just do it,_ she urged herself, _What do you care? He's one more mortal. Enhanced with a serum, but just one more mortal. Where he dies, countless others will take his place. They're nothing but a blight on this universe – a plague you must begin the extermination of. This is your duty. This is your destiny._

A single tear trickled down her cheek as she ghosted the blade against Steve's neck; _This is your fate._

She brought the blade up again, prepared to make the incision that would kill him. Then she lowered it. Then she brought it up. At odds with herself, Hel held the knife against the darkness, turning all the furniture into shadows apart from the sketchbook-section of the chair, which was illuminated in a silvery glow.

It was then that Steve began to wake.

The knife fell. Hel threw herself from the box and hurried across the room, hoping he wouldn't notice her as she opened the door and escaped. In a matter of moments she had turned a corner and was hiding behind it, her ears open for any footsteps that might say he was following her, her heart drumming against her ribcage.

Steve's room flooded with light as he switched it on. He opened his door to see who had just run out, which made a rectangle of orange appear in the modern hallway outside. Peering around the place, he called out;

"Hello? Is anyone there? Bruce? Tony? Thor?"

No one answered.

"Hel?"

The girl's lips mashed together as she listened to footsteps echoing down the hall. Beside her, there was nothing but a dead end with the picture of a suited, moustached man. If Steve were to discover her, she would have to explain herself.

Using every ounce of strength still in her little bones and an ancient spell meant only for emergencies, Hel whispered under her breath;

"_Darkest dawn of bleakest day – let me hide myself away."_

A spell that was only used to make people a shadow, Hel vanished entirely. She had perfected invisibility at a young age, as was in her blood, and with the concealment she was confident enough to peek around the corner and look at Steve.

"Huh," the super soldier said, his face confused, "Guess it was a dream."

He disappeared back into his room, making Hel's spell irrelevant. She could only look irritably at his door as she scurried past it again.

Next time. Next time she would return and take his life. Next time she wouldn't allow herself to hesitate – she would rid the universe of one more mortal, and she would be grateful for the opportunity.

Inside his room, Steve went to switch the light off. His movement caused his eye to catch something silver, and he walked over to his bed as he saw what looked to be a handle behind his last unpacked box.

As he grabbed it and pulled it up to his face, his features paled. They dropped as he whirled the bread knife in his hand, with a tip so sharp it could have been used to cut glass.

With a little stab of anguish in his mind, Steve resolved to keep Hel on a much tighter leash.


	14. The Plan

When the time came for them to make plans, Hel was more than happy about it.

In the conference room where she had first spoken with the team, they all sat in the strange L-curved seats, looking at each other as though each man was his own Kingdom. The silence was deafening. It drove Hel to the brink of madness before she decided to do anything about it.

"I think we all know what must be done." She said, sitting up straighter to emphasise her point.

"And what is that?" Clint rocked his chair with his foot against the table, arms crossed over his chest as he fixed her with a hard stare. Again, the Queen was reminded of his bravery, and stored it away in her memory bank for later use.

"To defeat the Trickster, our tactics must be employed in a quick and efficient manner – a manner which will annihilate him. There's only one thing in this universe that I know he won't be expecting."

"By the way you were talking before, it sounds like you already have a plan," Steve leaned forward, his cool blue eyes like daggers in her own, "So let's hear it."

The entire room fell silent as Hel rolled her shoulders back. She tilted her head up, keeping one eye constantly on Steve as though he were going to attack her, and spoke in a voice not meant for human ears.

Mixed with eternal ice and evil intent, the Queen said; "Loki will be expecting us to use Midgardian weaponry when we attack. If he's as clever as he used to be, he may even plan for my magic. We mustn't play into his hands."

"So what're you suggesting we do instead?" Tony, his hands fiddling with some strange rectangular device, looked up from it to stare at her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he marvelled at the craziness that was his night job.

"We use a weapon only one other has used before. A weapon recently locked away, for the good of all the universe."

Thor's eyes widened. He stared at Hel like she was going mad, wondering if he heard right or if he was in a nightmare waiting for the monsters. What she was saying was exactly the thing he'd feared.

"No, we can't allow-"

"If you want your precious Asgard free of Loki's spell, you will do what I'm suggesting. There's nothing we can surprise him with other than the Aether. And, if we use it properly, perhaps we can make it so he never has the opportunity to harm anyone else."

On Asgard, surrounded by people and illusions alike, Loki descended the throne – disguised as Odin. His wrinkled features and greying beard looked authentic enough, and he supressed the urge to grin as he roused Fandral from his slumber.

The warrior blinked. He looked left and right, seeing first Odin's face as it blurred into his vision, and then the faces of people he'd come to know and love. It all seemed so surreal. How had he come to fall asleep on the floor? Thinking back, the events were a blur, to the point where all he remembered was pulling out his sword and then being plunged into blackness.

"Wake up, Fandral," 'Odin' scolded, "There's much to do. Loki has been vanquished; now we must make sure he can never best us again."

The words were a jumble in the warrior's mind as he staggered to his feet. His green clothes looked as good as new, better, as though during sleep fairies had come and washed him. All he could do was stumble behind his King whilst trying to recollect what happened.

"And how do we do that, my King? I apologise, but I can't remember…"

He rubbed the back of his head in a desperate attempt to bring his memories back. They were there, buried under the darkness that still lingered in his mind. He could feel them taunting him. Why wouldn't they just come out?

The King walked back up to his throne and took a seat; "By returning the Aether. We must have it with us in case of emergencies – if Loki escapes his bonds, or if other realms decide we're ripe for the picking."

"The Aether is too dangerous, my King. You saw what it did to-"

"Yes, yes – I saw what it did to Jane Foster, and I know how dangerous it can be in the wrong hands. Which is why you're going out to get it and bring it back here."

"Sire, I-"

"You have sworn an oath to do as I command, have you not?"

"Yes." Fandral ducked his head down, away from his King's eyes.

"And does this oath mean as much to you now as it did on the day you took it?"

"Always, sire."

"Then you shall go and get the Aether, or you shall be banished from this court."

Fandral helplessly looked at the people around him. He found it odd that neither Volstagg nor Sif had spoken up, defended his point, but perhaps they had discussed it while he was asleep. Which made him wonder just why he was the last awake, and why Odin hadn't bothered telling them to go retrieve it if they were already in support of the move.

But he had no more reason to argue; like Odin said, he'd sworn an oath, and that oath told him to do whatever he was commanded to. "Yes, my King."

Hel rose from her seat to the tune of stunned silence. As she did, all of her energy went into materialising her bag out of thin air, which had been returned to her after extensive searching.

"I will go and wait for you on the rooftop," she said to Thor, and then added to the team, "Should any of you like to come along, feel free to do so. I'm sure the Collector will have something you mortals can understand."


	15. If Memory Serves

The trip to the Collector was quiet.

In it, Hel watched the interactions going on around her; the knowing glances between Clint and Natasha; the unspoken bond of the two scientists; Steve's unquestioned leadership. It was all there, however silent. The unbreakable ties between the team were like the ties she had to her realm, and Steve was at the head of it all.

As she shifted against the belt of the spacecraft which strapped her to the seat, Hel thought how intently the Captain had been watching her. Ever since they left the rooftop, it felt like she was always catching him out of the corner of her eye, dragging his gaze away with a secretive air about him. Why was he staring at her? What right did he have? The questions circled in her mind as the ship made its way through space, the beautiful starlight outside making her think back to Helheim.

How was Garm? It had been such a long time since she saw him. The dog was as dull as a rounded needle, with only two commands learnt after so many centuries – kill and roll over. Still, he gave her comfort when the hall grew quiet, and her demons were slumbering in their great stone rooms. His growls as he skulked about in her throne's shadow made her feel like she wasn't alone. And when it grew too cold in her King-sized bed, when eiderdowns and feathered duvets wouldn't keep out the chill, his fur always solved the problem, and his warm body gave her something to cuddle up to at night. Just thinking about that lumbering oaf brought a tear to her eye. He wasn't the smartest of creatures, but he'd never judged her. And he was always there when everyone else had vanished.

"Where are you…?" she whispered as she edged closer to the window, belt straining over her chest.

"Hm?" Bruce looked up from his book, "Did you say something?"

Hel folded her hands into her lap; "Yes, I asked where we are."

"Somewhere in an unexplored section of space, hurtling between uncharted planets astrologists only dream about."

She glared at Tony. She didn't like the man's mouth, but had discovered through careful observation that his intelligence made up for it. And his occasionally funny replies were somewhat of a gem.

"I'm sure we'll be at the Collector's place soon," Steve offered, "Have you slept?"

Hel looked away from him, "I've no need to sleep. Were you on a quest like this, you would feel the same."

"We _are_ on this 'quest.' We're all going to lock up your psychotic dad."

"Yes," the glowing eyes turned to Clint, "But none of you have set out to kill your father."

Silence returned. With it came a small bloom of hope for Steve, though he tried to squash it as he looked at Hel. She had shown one of the first signs that she still saw Loki as her father, rather than just a walking target. As she sat there with her hands folded in her lap, eyes gazing out at the never-ending void of space, she looked like the loneliest child he'd ever seen, and once more he felt a stab of protectiveness for the little girl in front of him. If only he could have been alive when she went through that war; he would have kept her safe, looking after her as she wandered that talked about Forest, watching over her when issues like death and disappearance came about. A child should have been surrounded by beauty. Beauty like…

"Do you like them?"

Hel looked up, peering at the Captain with a hint of suspicion.

"The stars?" he prompted, "They're beautiful."

"Quite. They remind me…" she trailed off, as though lost in a painful memory. Her glowing eyes dulled while she went into that unknown space in her mind, that dark world where she locked all of her thoughts, and beat back life's hardships so she wouldn't go mad. Steve could only imagine what horrors it held. Great lands tumbling under the weight of war, families separated before her eyes as she fought for that one little territory she could still call her own – her father's home, still standing, before it toppled down and tried to make itself her tomb.

Bruce couldn't resist asking questions; "What was it like? The war?"

For a moment, it seemed as though she wouldn't answer. Hel's thoughts had taken her to a place only she inhabited, and it took a while for her to come out of it again.

"Hm? What was that?"

"The war," he said, more tenderly than he thought he was capable of, "What was it like?"

Her eyes went cold again. But instead of anger, there was only sadness.

"Have you ever watched everything you loved go up in flames?"

He thought for a moment, arms crossed over his chest; "Something similar, yes."

"Then you know how painful it can be. I thought there was nothing more heart-breaking than watching my father leave. I spent countless hours waiting at the door, praying he would return to us and the war would become nothing but a distant memory. Nothing in my life had meaning unless he was there to see it."

A moment's pause was broken again by Hel;

"And then one morning, when I took a walk, the Forest came under attack. I had nowhere else to go. In some ways, I think I led Muspelheim to my village, and many of those Giants that died are dead because of me. And when that thought comes into your head, it's hard to get rid of. It weighed down on me like an anchor weighs down on a drowning man's neck. I accept the fact I was responsible for Giantland's destruction. I accept the fact my grandfather knew I lived all along, and kept it a secret so my father would have anger enough to win. What I cannot accept is the fact my father didn't even know I was still alive."

So ask me not what the war was like, or how the Fire Giants ransacked the good nature of my home. Do not think to yourself that there was only one type of pain. Wounds can heal, scars can be forgotten; it is the aftermath that causes the most heartache. Still, I hear the screaming. Still I see the buildings around me topple and the market place destroyed. I thought my father leaving was the worst thing to have happened. I was wrong."

She looked out at the platinum-plated stars that still drifted past their ship. All were stunned into silence, even Tony, as though seeing Hel for the first time.

"And so I can never be wrong again."


	16. Apprehend

The Collector's room was a strange place, filled with all sorts of relics and toys that Hel would have had fun unlocking. Every glass cabinet held to her a wealth of new opportunities and, as they walked through carefully plotted aisles, she found her fingers itching, her thoughts turned to kleptomania.

The Avengers were mesmerised by the sheer amount of what they were seeing. An entire world filled with things other worlds needed locking away. They could imagine the man that owned it; a creepy little goblin with pointed ears and yellowed fangs, perhaps crawling around on four legs like that Sméagol character. They weren't ready for the near human man that appeared to greet them.

"Taneleer," Hel was the first to say something, unfazed by the way he just materialised out of thin air.

"Welcome, my Queen. Come to marvel the museum?"

"Quite the collection you've gathered," she scanned the objects around her, "I suppose it would be, considering your being an Elder of the Universe. Do you have a moment to spare?"

"For Asgardian and Niflheim royalty? Of course."

They moved to one of the less populated sections of the museum, where Tony suspected this Taneleer ate his meals or did his research. There was only a single table in the centre of a square clearing, metal and placed on thick, heavy tomes categorised 'MYTHOLOGY,' and surrounding it were a few of the more worn-down pieces of his collection. Things that needed restoring, perhaps, or things that simply were too ugly to have on display. Not that the billionaire could imagine anyone travelling so far to see it.

"How may I serve you?" the Collector asked as he slid into his seat. It groaned with protest at his weight, marking its age. Thor thought how he could fill entire Asgardian buildings with the antiques he saw around him, and yet here the room went on and on as though there were no real ending.

But Hel seemed too engrossed in her task to marvel at the room. She stood in front of him, sleeves pressed together so her hands weren't visible; "We're here for something particular, something Asgard gave you in the hopes it would remain safe."

"And what might that be, my Lady?"

"The Aether," her words hung in the air like the venom of a provoked snake, hood up and fangs bared as it warned away its attackers, "You must return it to us immediately, for the good of the universe."

Thor, feeling as though the situation was slipping away from him, stepped forward, his eyes determined while he tapped Mjolnir against his leg. If there was one thing he could do in times of debate, it was make his presence known.

Taneleer stared at the girl in front of him. It had been a while since he heard about the infamous Hel, the Queen who had taken a throne so young and had so far had much to show for it. Word of her indifference had reached even the most isolated stations. Her innate magical ability was renowned as well as sought after, and yet he'd never truly believed it until he saw her in the flesh, talking to her as if they had met before. It was the first time he had seen that famous Queen of Helheim. He made a note of the crown that sat atop her head, with the emerald glinting at him like a blade in the dark.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I cannot give you the Aether. As one of the Infinity Stones, it must remain here in my protection until the other Stones have surfaced."

The girl sighed; "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

A sudden roar and flash of purple threw the Avengers off guard. Half of them shielded their eyes as the other half shielded their ears, yelling as a high-pitched scream echoed through the air and the sound of shattering glass followed. Hel stood there with her face unchanged. The only thing she had down was lower her hands, until they were resting on the tops of her legs and pressing down on her coat.

Taneleer was lying on the floor at the other side of the small square. His back creaked with age as he looked around him, dazed about what had happened, before he tried to regain some semblance of dignity by struggling to his feet.

"Consider that a warning strike, Mr. Tivan."

"Hel-" Thor went to touch his niece's shoulder, but found a shield of purple energy had surrounded her. It was just as he feared; on Midgard, her power was weak, but elsewhere in the universe it became stronger and festered deep within her soul. They could have never predicted when she got it back – Hel's intrinsic skill was known only to her and one other, who she intended to see dead.

"You will give us the Aether," purple energy slithered along the floor like snakes, weaving around the Avengers legs until they were looming over various antiquities, "or you will watch me destroy everything you've collected."

"No!" shouted the man. Tony swore he saw his hair go just a shade white, that strange line running from his bottom lip to his chin turn baby blue before darkening again.

"You have a choice, Mr. Tivan. Please make the right one."

Thor heard what others didn't – a desperate plea in Hel's voice, as though some part of her still mourned for what she'd become. Of course, the warrior knew Hel could never change back, not if that part became stronger than a thousand suns. Whatever she wanted, the Queen would get through pain and threats, and where they failed…mindless torture.

Taneleer didn't have a choice, not really. He folded like a cheap suit. With a grumble and a glare at the child-Queen, he took them through the endless aisles and twisting libraries, until they came to a small locked door with strange warnings in different languages. Hel only recognised three. They all said 'RESTRICTED ACCESS.'

A clunk was heard inside as the Collector slotted in his key. He knew Hel was watching him, and in some ways he knew she'd sensed his plot to find the other Stones. That thought alone made him want to shiver with rage. How could one so young have such a perception about her? Usually, it only came through hardship, until mistrust and deceit had made it so nothing good could be believed.

When the doors began to hiss and open, Steve instinctively moved forward, looping his arm around Hel to pull her back. She pushed him away, but the anger on her face was more a mask for her surprise. Why would he do that?

And there, dancing before her like the most precious jewel, was the Aether. Its beautiful crimson reminded her of blood, both of mortals and elders, creatures terrifying and timid. Something about the way it moved with such grace made her want to reach out and touch it. She stopped herself after a moment, knowing it would bind itself to her, but that didn't stop the want coursing through her body.

"It's…"

Steve felt his heart plummet as she moved towards it. Again he stepped forward, stopped only by Bruce's hand on his shoulder as he watched the girl reach out. The Aether went crazy when she stroked the glass, as though sensing something strong and magical was before it, something it could mould itself to and control.

"Hel!" he barked, "Get away from that!"

Thor peered at him curiously as his niece took no notice. Why was Steve acting in such a fatherly way? It made no sense. Then again, nothing was making sense to him.

"Mr Tivan…" the girl said, "It's…beauti-"

"I'm sorry, my Lady," another voice rang through the air, followed by the unsheathing of a blade, "I'm afraid you have to hand over that Aether."


	17. Illusions and Deceit

"Hand over the Aether, and no one will be harmed."

Hel watched as the sharpened tip of Fandral's blade loomed in the air, a glinting threat that she had no time or patience for. The warrior's eyes held conflicting emotions in them; somewhere inside his soul, he wanted to tell Thor just what his father had ordered. But there would be no disobeying his King. Justification was needed, and here there was none.

"Fandral," the prince said, stepping towards him as his friend readied his blade, "What are you doing?"

"Following my King's orders. He demands the Aether be brought back to Asgard, and I'm here to make sure that happens. Please, do not make this harder than it has to be."

The Avengers formed around Hel in a semicircle, as though the situation had made them forget she wasn't really a small girl. Some innate, unshakable instinct made them do so, and Steve's sturdiness at their head made them sure it was the right move.

"The King? But…Loki-"

"Is vanquished. Our warriors prevailed, as they always do."

"You fool; of course he's not defeated!" Hel's voice came through the bodies in front of her, "If he were, there would be celebrations in all the Nine Realms! There would be dancing and festivals! This? This silence? These demands to bring back one of the most powerful weapons in the universe? Do you really think him crushed?!"

Fandral's resolve was breaking. Despite that, his sword never lowered, and a determined expression descended on his face as he approached the people in front of him. Clint's bow was up in a flash. It was such a quick reaction that even Hel flinched, though she spent no time wondering why he would protect her.

"Please, Thor," the warrior said, "I don't want to have to do this."

His prince's eyes were hard; "If you try to take the Aether, my friend, we will have no choice but to fight."

There was a tense pause. Hel could see the Avengers' faces flickering with anticipation, which itself hung sweet and heavy in the air, like the weather of a tricky spring-time. In front of them, Mjolnir gripped tight, Thor silently pleaded with the man in front of him – a man he had come to respect and love, and who had rode with him into more battles than they could count.

"Enough of this."

A whip of purple sent the Avengers flying. Bruce huddled into the corner after he impacted, whimpering and hissing through his teeth as he struggled to keep control, whilst all the others sprang to their feet.

Fandral's sword was thrown to the side, and before he could dive after it his hands were caught by energy. It wrapped itself around his wrists like makeshift cuffs; Hel's indifferent face looked on, but even Thor could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. They intensified with the power running through her veins.

"Hel." Thor warned, but she ignored him. It seemed that nothing mattered now she was in control of her magic. Even though Taneleer had scuttled off somewhere into the aisles, and Bruce was hunched on his hands and knees in a desperate attempt to calm himself, Hel was fixated on the purple coming out of her skin, the little stream of energy that was both independent and a part of her.

Fandral struggled for a moment, feeling more helpless than he had the first time he picked up a sword. When he found the energy was stronger than him, his blood ran cold.

But he wouldn't bend to her. No – he had his King, and Hel may have been strong but she was no noble spirit. Through trickery and lies she would get her way. He knew the stories, heard survivors as they spoke of Helheim and the horrors that laid within. Indeed, he had been to Helheim himself. If Hel planned to kill him, she would do so without the satisfaction of him breaking underneath her.

What she did, he wasn't expecting.

"I don't wish to harm you," her voice trilled through the air like frost in a forest, "I don't want to see you suffer, Fandral. You're a good man. A dying breed. But you must not interfere with what we have to do. You have been lied to, fooled into believing an illusion as immaterial as love, and I know how you will shake your head at me and claim otherwise. I will not kill you, Fandral. But consider that a mercy – and a mercy that shan't be repeated."

The purple glowed even more brightly before Fandral fell to the floor. His eyes had fallen shut as if he were a tired child, and his arms – now free – fell either side of him, hugging the metal floor as he drifted into unconsciousness.

Bruce's breathing had eased. He'd gained control of himself moments before Hulk could make an appearance and, though he didn't believe in them, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to ancient gods, knowing that Hulk's presence could have made a bad situation worse. As Tony helped him up to his feet, Steve stormed towards the child, his eyes hard.

"What have you done?" he demanded in a slow, deliberate tone. Neither of them looked at each other, focusing instead on Thor as he began to check Fandral's vital signs.

"Merely let him rest. Give him a few hours; he will see our point of view. Quite possible that he may also go very mad, but that's a risk I'm willing to take."

"You're ruthless."

"I never claimed innocence. What I must do to ensure peace in my realm, I will do without hesitation. If that means the death of a thousand innocents, so be it. If it means the destruction of entire worlds, that's what must be."

He hummed to himself as though he were realising the depth of Hel's dedication for the first time, before diving into a pocket she didn't know he had. It must have been quite a small thing, carefully hidden in the blue spandex of his uniform.

"Here," he shoved something hard into her hand, "You'll like it."

With that he turned, not even looking back as she unclenched her fist and saw a strange, egg-shaped thing in her palm. The golden foil was dull in the light, but it still looked to her like something given only to royalty – special and important people, who on Earth wielded all the power.

_You strange Midgardian…_


	18. The Wicked and the Weakened

Flying back, Hel found herself dreading the loss of her magic. She used it to paint strange patterns in the air as the ship hurtled amongst the stars, a part of man that actually impinged on the universe, and would be gone just as soon as it arrived.

The team watched her in silence. It was beautiful, really, the way she made such wonders with just her mind, how she didn't even seem to notice the energy expelling from her. She was the youngest and oldest artist they had ever seen, blessed with the skill to show people how she saw things. Creatures that roamed her realm were painted against the ceiling in purple ink, which itself seemed to sink into Steve's mind and make him feel almost at ease around the girl.

When Earth drew nearer, the paintings grew weak. Soon enough they were fading away, until only the faintest sparkle glistened against the ship's dull silver, before vanishing entirely as they re-entered the atmosphere.

"Goodbye," Steve swore he heard her whisper.

The Aether was stored in a tightly-sealed, SHIELD approved carrying case, imbued with the same magic that glistened in Hel's crown. It was the strangest thing – her own powers almost disappeared when they were on Earth, but it seemed the crystals she brought with her would never dull. Tony clasped the case in all its mechanised glory, with locks and passcodes and all sorts of voice activation keys needed to open it, and nothing short of an atomic bomb being able to make so much as a scratch. The familiar logo sat just above Hel's jewel; a ruby, which was a darker shade of red than most of the rubies he'd seen.

"Hel," Thor leaned forward from where he sat across from her, "Are you alright?"

She had turned paler when they began to touchdown on Earth. It seemed the last vestiges of life she clung to were dissolving in the air, and like the pollution she too would become a deadly factor to everyday life. But Hel nodded her head and turned to face away from them, looking out at the clouds and beautiful blue sky.

By the time they were back in the Tower – a few hours after they had dedicated a room to the Aether, and locked the sleeping Fandral away in their comfiest cell – Hel had lost interest in what was going on. The loss of her magic had served to rob her of her energy. She wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, but the call of duty kept her awake. The future would soon be on them. In the distance, she could make out the murky outline of her father's grave, and somewhere deep inside another part of her soul fragmented.

So she squirrelled herself away in the guest room, where at least she had her thinking space. The great double-windows reminded her of her bedroom on Asgard when she was a little girl; they had overlooked the courtyard and the beautiful park beyond, but these ones only saw the ocean and the otherwise glorious view of a concrete world, a foreign and alien land she had no place in.

How were her demons? How was Garm? How were the souls that wandered in her Forest, broken or replenished? In a moment she wished she had her Silver Sheen, so she could look at her beloved realm and perhaps even check in on Loki, make sure there weren't any developments in his plot.

A knock pulled her out of her reverie as she gazed at the city, leaning on the balcony that separated her and certain death. She called 'enter' as disdainfully as she could, but that didn't stop Steve wandering into her room with a worried look on his face.

"It's dinner time."

She hadn't even noticed the sky was filled with stars. The dark fell on her like a tiger fell on its victim, and suddenly it seemed that the world was nothing but a shadowed no man's land.

"Another time, perhaps," she told him, not turning to meet his gaze as he walked to stand behind her, "I'm thinking."

"About what?"

The mortal was persistent, she decided; "Many things. Nothing in particular. Go and join your team – I will not want anything for the night."

"You can't hide yourself away forever, Hel." He squeezed in beside her until his lower back was leaning against the bar, his arms folded over his chest as he looked down at the young girl. From that angle, he seemed like the tallest man in the world. She had to stop herself from flinching. "Eventually, you're gonna have to come downstairs."

"I wouldn't want to impose on your delicate routine here," her voice was mocking, "Such a fragile system of supressed anxiety and false hope. I wonder how you manage to protect yourself, let alone an entire world."

"We believe in each other. We have faith."

His simple answer left her without reply. She scrabbled for something, anything in her mind which would put her back on the podium, but nothing except the absence of stability came to her – and that she had already pointed out. Instead, Hel turned to face the world in front of her, as a million lights began to switch on and sit as artificial stars in the distance.

Steve watched her for a moment, if only because she seemed so…lost. There was nothing but pain in the creature he was seeing now. Her eyes still glowed and made her inhuman – something he never thought he'd be talking to or treating as a child – and yet, something about her manner, about the way she lashed out if she felt someone getting too close was strangely…understandable.

"Did you ever eat that egg?"

There was a moment of stillness, and then she pulled out the present he'd given her at the museum. It was still wrapped up, without so much as a corner torn off so she could peer inside. The foil seemed almost brighter on Earth.

"Go on then; unwrap it."

"Why?"

"Just unwrap it – I promise, you'll love it."

After another moment's hesitation, and a sigh of exasperation, Hel began to peel off the strange wrapped with the pretty ribbons printed on, which revealed to her a hard surface of brown underneath. Once she had finally rid it of the foil, she found it was just an egg-shaped, cold thing.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked.

"It's chocolate," Steve gave her a puzzled look, "Haven't you had it before?"

"Whatever toy this is, you may as well have it back."

"It's not a toy, it's a snack. It's a treat, for kids. Seriously, you've never had it? Even I've had chocolate."

"I was only a child when my homeland was destroyed. The time for 'treats' escaped me."

"You still seem like a kid to me." He ignored the way she narrowed his eyes at him, resting the heels of his hands on the bar behind him as he relaxed in the open air. "No one's watching. Have a bite."

Hel looked down at the thing in her hand, and for the first time she realised she could only just about get her fingers to squeeze around it. Her fingertips scraped against each other with the barest pressure as she brought it to her lips.

With one quick glance at Steve, she bit.

The sweet, almost sickly flavour swirled in her mouth like a glorious whirlpool. She felt some of the chocolate rub off in the corners of her lips and her cheeks bulged like that of a hamster's, until she was struggling to keep her mouth closed as she began to chew. A little smile stretched on her face as she looked at Steve, and he was almost floored by how child-like she was.

In a moment of pride, he smiled. And then he did something he never thought he would do; he lifted the girl up from the floor and threw her on his shoulder, where she sat like a princess above the world.

She didn't have the ability to yell with the chocolate in her mouth, and soon enough he had turned until she could stare out at the land before them.

"It's a big place out there," he said, "Big and fast-paced and terrifying. Everything's new, isn't it? Everything's not what it should be or how you remember it. It's all so alien you just want to wind back time and go home."

Hel chewed her food in silence, but the air of contemplation was strong enough to hit Steve.

"But you can't go home – not yet, anyway. And there's a reason you're here. You don't know exactly what it is or when it'll come, but you know you're here for something. Soon enough, you start realising that you like the way everything looks; how the world lights up at night when you can't sleep. It's comforting. It's a message that you're alive."

They sat there in silence for a moment. All that could be heard was Hel's teeth chewing at the wet chocolate, soft breathing through nostrils which billowed out as white smoke, and somewhere in the distance, a hum of activity from one of the many nightclubs surrounding the Tower. From where Hel sat, she felt like she was looking at an entirely different realm than Midgard. It looked as though this place had been given Asgard's light, which in every corner banished the shadows that had clung to the girl's mind.

"Do you ever miss your time?"

Steve thought for a moment; "Yeah, I do."

"What about it?"

"I miss my mum a lot. I knew a few people; Bucky and Peggy were the two main ones. I even knew Tony's dad – Howard Stark. You seen his pictures?"

An image of the moustached man came to her mind; "Perhaps."

"They were all great, and if I'd had the choice to stay there or come here…but, I guess we don't get those choices for a reason." He brought a warm hand to sit on her back, supporting her where she wobbled slightly, "What about you? Do you miss anything?"

She hummed to herself before taking another bite of chocolate. For once, the idea of sharing her past made her feel warm inside.

"My mother as well. She was…" Hel thought about it for a moment, and then; "She was a hunter, and cared more for collecting wolves' pelts than she ever did child-rearing. She never neglected us, but my brothers and I were burdens on her otherwise free lifestyle."

"You have brothers?"

"A wolf and a snake. Fenrir and Jorgmundr. We…haven't spoken in a while."

"You never told us about them," somewhere in his mind, Steve stored it away for further mention, "What else do you miss?"

She stopped. Would she reveal her darkest secret to the man before her? Would she tell him that part of her that no one else knew, no one else could ever know? Something in her screamed to finally let it loose, but at the same time, it held her back.

"I miss the war," she lied, "It made me feel safe, knowing that our enemies were more concerned with each other than they were us. There have been attempts on my life since I took the throne."

"I thought you ruled death?"

"I do, and one day it too shall rule me. Death is but a preface for another life. Perhaps in a few thousand years, I will be rebirthed into something more – something better. There are many souls in my Forest, Captain, but none of them remain for eternity."

More silence filled the air. Steve looked out at the beautiful ground below them, weighing up the options in his head, before he spoke again.

"When we come to fight Loki," he said, "Will you be able to do it?"

Hel chewed on the chocolate harder; "Yes. And I will see him dead before I see him incarcerated. You may believe there's nothing more sacred than family bonds, Captain, but my father has caused more pain than anyone I know, and as his child I feel it only right that I should end his pai—reign."

A sudden voice entered the air. Electronic but sophisticated, Hel had come to know the bodiless man as JARVIS, and had accepted him as no more than a computerised debate partner.

"I apologise for the interruption, Mister Rogers, but sir has asked me to locate where you are."

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute."

"He's currently debating whether or not to come up here and retrieve you himself."

"No; tell him to stay down there."

The voice vanished. Something told Hel it was never too far away.

"Come on," the scene around her changed as the world disappeared into a whirl, "You're coming downstairs to eat dinner with us. Who knows? Maybe you'll be the buffer between Tony and his science rants."

In the Asgard's throne room, dark and cold and void of all life, Loki sat on the throne and looked down in the shimmering orb in front of him. He had watched Steve's heart-to-heart with his daughter, and when he saw how she seemed to trust him a little bloom of rage flowered in his chest. As the talks went on, it had exploded into a raging fireball.

Hel was _his_ daughter. She was _his_ baby. No matter what Steve did or how many stars he wore on his suit, he would never take the blood running through her veins. He could lie and deceive her into believing he was a good man, but he was nothing more than a soldier taken from his time – a lab experiment with a beating heart. Loki wouldn't let him take the only person he loved and use her as a tool. He knew – he believed with every fibre of his being that Hel belonged with him, and if only she gave him the chance he would prove to her that he could be a good father.

The Avengers had taken from him a victory and given him humiliation. They had returned him to Asgard where his freedom was restricted, his books were confiscated and all but a little wickedness was taken from his soul. What they had stolen, they would never return. And if he dared let them take his daughter, he knew he would never get her back.

"My little Helly," he whispered into the orb, "What do I have to do to prove my love to you?"


	19. And the Heart that Bleeds

As the days went on, Hel and Steve grew closer. Where one was the other was sure to be with them, or if they separated it was due to official matters taking place; things Hel would be unable to attend if she were to keep herself at arm's length of the Avengers.

Loki watched from his secluded spot on Asgard, where even birdsong had left him. It was a lonely place to be. He wished for nothing more than to have a din of talking going on in the courtyard below him or children's howls as they raced after each other in the streets. The silence that haunted this land had become to him a prison, and the cage he was slowly being locked into would do everything except break. On his occasional trips to see Sigyn and to wander the abandoned isles, he thought back to Giantland before it had come to ruin, back to before Muspelheim and the discovery of his heritage, and mourned again for a past that made him believe the future was bright.

"Hel!" Steve called as he walked into the girl's room, surprised to find her awake at six a.m. "I'm taking you somewhere today."

The girl was dressed in her comfortable nightclothes, which until a few days ago had consisted of nothing more than a long, pure-white gown adorned with black ribbons. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship from the land of Vanaheim, given to her as a gift by their King. When she had learnt of the attachments it had to Asgard, she had taken it without so much of a second thought, as though some distant part of her wanted to taunt Frigga for the hurt her husband had caused. What she was wearing now however was much different. A cutesy set of blue pyjamas, decorated with cows leaping over moons with smiles on their faces; courtesy of Tony and his 'unbelievable' sense of humour.

"Where?" she asked, not looking up from her writing. Helheim had been without her for a long time, and she felt it necessary to check up on her beloved realm.

"That's a surprise. Come on – get dressed and I'll meet you downstairs."

Loki floated through the museums like a ghost. He looked at the paintings of glorious battlegrounds, broken enemies and blood, so similar and so different at the same time, whilst around him there stood the white marble statues of kings and warriors old. Each frame held a story he'd listened to as a boy.

He had many memories in this place. As a child he had gone there for peace and seclusion, to experience a whole realm locked inside his own. As a teenager he recalled courting women there, in an attempt to weed out those with weak minds. And as an adult he remembered bringing his children to look at all of the paintings; first Jorgmundr, who with his venom had scorched a permanent mark in the floor – a mark he could still see – then Fenrir, who had broken eight statues with his swinging tail. It was only Hel who hadn't caused mindless destruction. She was the child that sat and listened to all of the lectures, the child that pointed to her favourite paintings and stared at them for hours, the child that Loki had lifted up to see the tops of the portraits which depicted their then-believed family.

"These clothes are repulsive," Hel said to Steve as the big man clasped her hand in his.

"I don't know, I think they look good on you."

"I look like a Midgardian."

"And that's what we want people to think, isn't it?"

The girl had changed from her pyjamas into a pair of child-like jeans and a blue shirt, topped with blue butterfly shoes that were plastered with the things. Her black hair looked misplaced; her skin was pale, almost until she looked ill, and yet Steve couldn't help the beam of pride that he had managed to make her wear something so…ordinary.

"Where are we going?" she asked again when they had walked out of the Tower. There were so many people at such great heights that she had to avoid looking up, or else she would be overwhelmed.

"I told you – it's a surprise."

Loki turned the corner to his favourite picture. It was only his favourite because it had been Hel's favourite, and he remembered sitting on the bench that sat opposite it for hours on end.

At a staggering thirty foot tall, with a hand-crafted frame made out of the finest wood and decorated by the most complex patterns, stood a captivating portrait of Frigga, and at her side Thor and Loki. It had taken a good few years to finish the frame; the painting itself took less, but still it held all of those feelings that once ran deep within the God. Love, peace, joy, hope – they were all there, and he felt a deep sense of loathing underneath it as he realised it had all been one big lie.

_You could destroy it right now if you wanted to,_ he thought as the green energy charged in his hands, _You could end it and its lies right this moment. It's dishonest, is it not? And you can't have dishonest things in your rule. You end that legacy with Odin. So go on – destroy it._

"This is the single most pointless talk I've ever sat through," Hel droned as the man on the parapet talked of old legends. He wore a strange white robe with a red front, his face old and wizened like that of her wizards, and yet the people sitting on the pews were enthralled by all he said. Her legs hung off the edge like dead weight; she barely noticed the people turning and smiling at her, for she was the youngest member in their audience and they felt it customary to take notice.

"It's church," Steve whispered into her ear, "You're supposed to listen. Sit up straight."

"If I don't, what will they do? Men of peace have no power over me."

"What if I ask you nicely?"

Hel glared at him for a moment, and then felt her back naturally straighten as she took up her royal pose. Hands folded in her lap, one leg folded over the other – it was as if she were at her own worshipping service, but the men talking spoke of a man she didn't know.

The picture stayed hanging in the gallery without so much as a scratch on it. Loki couldn't stand to destroy Hel's favourite painting. For him, it felt like the only link he had left to her, the last trace that the past was true. It also was one of the only pictures of Frigga, and he didn't want to let them burn.

"I want to go to a museum," Hel said when they finally walked out of the service. A bright light poured down on her from the sun above, turning her skin even more pale as the people parted and smiled at her. Steve's hand tightened on her own.

"What kind?" he asked, throwing protective glances around to warn people off.

"Art," she decided, "I do enjoy art. It's the only link we have to our inner consciousness."

"I've never met a kid more poetic than you, Hel."

"Perhaps you haven't met enough 'kids.'"

The Aether was locked away in the darkest room of SHIELD, where not even the most nimble fingered thief could get it. In the black, its crimson form glided in a glass cylinder, just itching to be let loose on the world, and from far away even Hel could feel its presence. She glanced over her shoulder as they walked through the crowded sections of the museums, dived between lectures and paintings. It whispered to her of things to come. Of unimaginable power.

And somewhere in the universe, Loki felt it too.


	20. Secretive

The night brought no peace, and so Hel spent it idly wandering the halls that ran through the Tower like an intricate web. There always seemed to be a new route to go down, a new room to find. Some were as bare as the day they were built. Others had things in every corner, until there was a fair argument for Tony's infant-like hoarding.

But she paid little attention to what she found there, unless of course it brought with it a memory. For some reason, this whole world was full of them; memories of people she didn't know, all stored away like so much cheap material. They almost hurt her to walk past. That was why she spent much of her time away from the laboratories and communal floor, for there the air was thick with remembrance, and she felt like there was no remedy for whatever horrors the Avengers went through.

"_In the lands from whence I came,"_ she sang, her voice an eerie, harmonious lull in the still air, "_Where people part and dogs are tame, there's no more pain nor less in time, when I judge souls based on their lives. I think and feel with the songs of old. When they leave, my blood runs cold. I'm lonely, a digit, a spectre in the dark – and yet, there's fire in these warmed-up sparks. I'll kill and maim and kill again. Anything to keep no mortal a friend."_

Hel had noticed how dependent she had become on Steve, and she felt her heart tug when she knew that in the end she would be forced to leave him. It was a sad day when she met a mortal she could almost call her equal. For her, no one was equal, for they hadn't walked the lonely isles and ruled over the loathsome souls; they were ignorant of her, which made her think they could never be more than beggars in her field. But Steve was more than that. He understood her, made her feel like she was still capable of social interaction. Equality with a world that had forgotten her.

Loki watched his daughter wandering the halls. She looked so peaceful there, so in her element as she glided between light and shadow, surveying the darkness before she would step into it. The glowing amethyst eyes made him flinch every time they turned towards him. If she were able to use her powers, she'd surely know about his surveillance. It helped him protect himself and keep aware of what they were doing, and if there was an added benefit of watching over his daughter…well, he wouldn't deny it was convenient.

Itching to reach out and stroke her face, the God squeezed the throne-arms tighter as she made her way through the Tower. His knuckles turned white whilst his breathing came out in sharp exhales.

It continued like that until Midgard's light began to filter through the windows. Loki could see his daughter clearly now – her beautiful sharp-angled face was paler, and the pits of her eyes were dark like black crescent moons.

_Is she eating properly?_ He wondered; _She looks unwell. That pig-headed Thor; he best be feeding my girl! Perhaps it's something else? Where's my ailments book?_

The truth was, Hel's lack of power seemed to suck all life out of her bones. If he was thinking, Loki would have realised that. Like most born magic-wielders, it wound itself deep into her blood, where it lived and thrived and gave her a sense of being much higher than most. He had gone through the same during his stay on Midgard; if it hadn't been for his studying, he would never have been able to use what little spells he had.

_She's tired. That must be it. Why hasn't she slept? Hel, please, take better care of yourself. You're too precious to be wasting your energy on mortals; why are you so sad, my girl?_

Hel went back to her bedroom, where she began to write out the letter she intended to send to Helheim. It was mostly addressed to Geneva, and at the top she struggled to remember the names her demons used to go by. In the end, she settled on talking about Garm, and how much she missed the jagged-tooth lummox.

_If there were a medal for the most idiotic beast in our Nine Realms, I assure you there would be no winner but you, my Garm. How I miss your fur during these cold nights. Never colder than our dear Helheim, but it still makes me sad that there are no dogs as large as you here. And I would trust none so close to my neck, either. Who knows what these filthy pests do with their time?_

_Geneva, there is a mortal here who I think you would like. He goes by the name of Bruce Banner, and he speaks as timidly as a church mouse. Church mouse – that's a term Steve taught me, when we went to his blasted worshipping place to learn about a strange prophet called Jesus. I faded in and out so the details are sketchy, but from what I gather he was a magic-wielder._

_I digress; Dr Banner is rather notable in his scientific research and, as I learned when I tampered with his supplies, he turns into a large green monster when his heart rate is elevated. I do like a mortal with a surprise. I want you to go to the nearest marketplaces in Vanaheim and purchase some tomes on these people. Anything; I do not care what the subject matter is, as long as it relates to the Avengers in some way. Research extensively Dr Bruce Banner, Mr Anthony Stark, Mr Clint Barton and Ms Natasha Romanov. If you can find anything, learn about SHIELD – their organisation, but from hearsay I assume they are secretive and not much will exist._

_And I want there to be another, more intimate study on Mr Steve Rogers. This one is more important than the rest. I want to know his place of birth, his genealogy, his service and friends; I want it all, no matter what. We must make sure we know him before I can deem him suitable._

_I intend to bring him back to Helheim as a new resident, and hopefully he shall accept the title of my guardsman. If not, I shall return alone. But before I can make any move, I want to know that his serum – and whatever else – will not give us an unpleasant surprise._


	21. The Aether's Rule

Studying the Aether proved more difficult than he hoped, but soon Loki stumbled on a goldmine in the palace's library. All sorts of dusty, ancient tomes were written on the thing, stretching as far back to before Odin's reign, and it was a simple matter of finding the right book that stood in his way of defeating Thor.

The quiet helped him to focus. No longer did thoughts of Hel plague his mind as he read each chapter carefully, storing away everything in his huge mind bank before he went for another book. If she had defected to the other side, he would just have to make sure none of his attacks harmed her. He had no other way of ensuring her safety.

Aether killed their weaker hosts; he knew this, for it was like a parasite feeding off a rotten carcass. It would take everything a body had before it parted from them, which was why mortals and some infants had to be kept away from it, and its power was almost impenetrable to those without magic in their veins. He could imagine that Hel would find herself drawn to it just as he was. It probably called out to her when she lay awake at night, thinking about whatever that girl had on her mind – Helheim, Garm, her demons, even that proselytising Captain America.

"Ah!" he said when he discovered another goldmine. Diagrams of Aether's makeup, purely theoretical and with a big label at the top that stated 'NOT DETERMINED TO BE TRUE.' Just a scientist's or a magician's interpretation of it from the old days, but it was better than nothing. He went through the fading black ink like it was the Gospel, whilst around him the ancient shelves towering up to the ceiling were quiet, stoical in their standing. Their burdens were still so heavy; relics, some of them, more for looking at than for reading, as Loki had discovered when they crumbled into dust in his hands.

Hel stepped forward to touch the Aether's glass, again aware of the dozen of eyes that were on her. SHIELD agents insisted on being in the room when she admired their weapon, just in case something were to go wrong – like she became entranced by the power and attempted to use it for her own. She couldn't deny it was a large possibility.

"Do you hear it?" she asked when a faint whisper echoed on the breeze. Natasha was standing behind her, eyes fixated on the girl's little fingers, but she made a little noise that Hel assumed meant 'no.'

"Hmm."

"It speaks to me," she confided, "It tells me of things to come. It wants a host. It needs a host."

Natasha moved forward, but Hel had made no move other than to stare at the thing in front of her. The tips of her fingers tingled as she looked at the crimson floating in reinforced glass, so close and yet so far, so powerful and yet so restricted.

"Don't get any ideas, Hel. This Aether's in case of emergencies; in case Loki decides he wants to bring the fight to us."

"And how do you suppose to use it without first having a host?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"No plan for the inevitable? Perhaps I should speak to the Captain about it. We all know it can't be avoided – at the end of this battle, either the Trickster or I will have the Aether, and both of us will use it to destroy the other."

Natasha noted the sadness in her voice, however subtle it may have been. The SHIELD agents around them simply went about their business, keeping an eye on Hel as they went through paperwork or whatever else was lying on the polished metal tables, in between microscopes and nano-scopes that were on strict experimental usage. They listened with interest. Hel was a strange being, one they never thought would exist, and who seemed so acceptant of the future that it was hard to say she hadn't seen it already.

"Are you willing to do that if it comes to it?" Natasha asked.

"To kill the Trickster? Yes. Combining myself with the Aether will be no hardship. That kind of power at my fingertips…the possibilities are endless, and I daresay it will like my magic almost as much as it likes the other Stones."

"I thought it killed weaker hosts?"

"Are you implying something?"

Those amethyst eyes were on her like scalding iron. Her skin actually prickled under them, and she sent a silent thanks to whatever deity was watching that she had chosen to wear her long-sleeve suit that morning.

"I'm just saying, with you being so young, it may be a bit more difficult for it to combine itself with you. And what with-"

"My age has nothing to do with this. If we're speaking in technicalities, I'm quite ancient. Perhaps not as old as Thor or the Trickster – or indeed, Taneleer – but what I lack in years I make up for in experience and magic."

"And you believe it'll be able to live off of you without killing you?"

"I do. I'm just as strong as Malekith was, and that oaf managed to use it quite well. All it will take me is a bit more studying, at the most."

Hel pulled her hand away from the glass with a great struggle, as if it caused her physical pain to part with the Aether. She assumed it meant that they were supposed to be together. She'd read somewhere that it hand-chose the host it wouldn't kill, but that was open to interpretation and had been an old text.

"Where's the Captain?" she asked.

"Running through training programs with the new recruits." Natasha folded her arms over her chest as she leant against one of the metal bars, which ran along the narrow platform that held the Aether at the very end in a strange, cylinder-shaped container. "Why?"

"I want to speak to him."

"If you're prepared to be sitting around watching drills for three hours, you can go down and wait until lunch."

"Excellent – I can read that new book he gave me."

Loki opened yet another tome, counting the total up to about eighteen. They were stacked around him in tidy piles, and a thin spray of dust wafted in the air as he tried to go through more meaningless folklore, ideals and worshipping rituals.

He would defeat Thor and the Avengers; he would have the Aether, even if he had to wrench it out of their cold, dead hands. Hel at this point had defected. He could see no way to make her come to him unless he showed her he was the only way to power. With a heavy heart, Loki accepted that he would have to fight against his own daughter in the upcoming battle for dominance.


	22. A Chance in Helheim

"So, how's your first taste of burger?" Steve asked as he wiped Hel's face with a napkin, aiming for the splodge of mayonnaise that sat in the corner of her mouth.

"Odd," she answered, "I've never had anything quite like it. Tell me, what animal?"

"Cow."

"What a strange creature…"

The burger was so big that it almost didn't fit in her hands, and every time Hel squeezed the bun what seemed like a waterfall of juice came out. Steve watched her in fascination; her eyes glinted in curiosity whilst around them SHIELD agents were enjoying their lunch, all of them keeping one eye trained on their royal guest. It wasn't hard to focus on her when the canteen was so bland. A room of chrome and metal, with several dozen tables that sprang up in a seemingly haphazard pattern and a single, huge bar which was overflowing with food.

"You seem to like it, though." He noted when she took another bite, struggling to keep it all in her mouth as she chewed.

"It's strange – Midgardian food has grown on me in recent days. I think it's a consequence of being here for so long."

"What's food like in Helheim, then?"

"Much colder. We rarely warm things up, since the chill can refreeze it in a matter of moments. My diet mostly consists of apples and whatever fruit my demons bring to me."

"That doesn't sound healthy."

"When you rule over a land like Helheim, you'll find many ailments have no impact on you. Lack of sleep does not weaken my mind – in fact, I never sleep soundly. Food and water are only pastimes to me. What makes me feel faint is the idea that I can't do my work; that chills me to the bone."

Steve watched as she dived back into her food, as though none of what she was saying had any impact on her. The SHIELD agents looked on, noticing the way Hel went from refined, sophisticated queen to hungry young girl, her table manners somewhat weakening as she tried to fit as much of the burger into her mouth as possible. Her amethyst eyes seemed to spark with enjoyment.

When he felt she was coming to the end of her little indulgence with childhood, Steve spoke again; "I'd like to see Helheim at some point, you know. Would be interesting to have a look at the place."

Hel swallowed the piece of burger in her mouth before replying. The idea had crossed her mind a few times to broach the subject as a mere visit, and when the Captain had stepped into her realm she felt its glory would speak for itself. There, she could show him rather than tell him the wonder that was her Kingdom, and prove to him in no small terms the power that festered in every shadowed corner. But as she thought about this a niggle of guilt tucked in the back of her mind; how would her father react to knowing one of his nemesis's was a guest of his daughter's realm, welcomed and enjoyed?

She pushed it aside, rebuking herself for thinking of Loki as her father; "I can take you there. If Thor permits it, I can use my crown to transport us."

"Your crown? That won't fit on both of our heads, Hel."

"If you've physical contact with me at the time, it won't matter."

"Ah, so I have to hold your hand?"

"You do it when we wander in your realm," she noted, her eyes full of a challenge, "Why not when we wander mine?"


	23. Sleep Well, Little Hel

She could hear it. It was talking.

Ever since they had come back from SHIELD, the Aether had been speaking to Hel. Its whispering voice could be heard no matter how much harp music she played, no matter how many times she asked JARVIS to stop all sounds entering her room. The very idea that it had followed her back to the Tower sent shivers down her spine. She wanted to stay as far away from it as possible, and yet, at the same time, she couldn't wait to see it again.

"_All that power,_" it wasn't a man's or a woman's voice – it was without gender, something ethereal to a greater extent than her own, "_All that power at your fingertips, just beyond them. You're wasting it. Come back. Come back."_

"How can you not hear it?!" she shouted at the thin air. Not particularly talking to anyone, the girl almost rolled her eyes when JARVIS replied.

"There are no other sounds in the room, Queen Hel. I can run a scan for you of the rooms surrounding us, but I've taken great precaution in the sound-proofing you asked of me."

"Then how is it still talking?!"

"_Back to the Aether, back to the Aether, back to the Aether…"_

"Silence!" she barked, "Will you just be quiet?! I can't concentrate!"

It combined with harp music to grow even louder, pounding against her skull until all she could feel was a throbbing energy, "_Listen to it, listen to it, listen to it…"_

So lost was she in her pain that she hadn't noticed her door open. Steve walked in with a confused frown on his face, brows knitted together in confusion as he approached the girl, crouching on her bed with her head clutched in her hands.

"Hel?"

"How does it know my name?!"

"Er…"

Realising her mistake, Hel turned, only to be confronted with Steve's worried eyes. The voice dissipated in the air. All that remained of it were a few gentle thuds in her head, as if she had drunk too much caffeine and was just beginning to feel the effects. Those blue eyes never left her. There was concern in them, real and genuine, and she felt the need to make it disappear as her resolve began to break.

"Why are you here?" she asked, pulling her legs around her to hang down over the edge, "I didn't send for you."

"I came to check you were alright. You looked a bit pale when we left."

"I'm always pale. I'm Death embodied – if I were not pale, I would no longer represent all that I rule."

"Still…"

"Fear not for my complexion. When you see Helheim, you'll understand just how little it bothers me."

"Okay then," he sat down, the bed creaking in protest under his weight. The entire mattress dipped and for a moment, Hel thought it wouldn't hold. Tony must have already foreseen events like this; the frame held fast despite its creaking, like a dedicated soldier on the front lines of his army.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while. She could tell he had something to say, but whatever it was must have been a delicate matter. He opened his mouth at least four times before he managed to say anything, and even then it was just a random question.

"Have you slept recently?"

Hel peered at him with her glowing eyes, a curious glint in them; "Sleep is for mortals and Asgardians. In Helheim, I've no need for it."

"But you're not in Helheim right now. So, have you slept?"

The girl looked away, staring at the blank white wall that was decorated with strange, contorted paintings.

"No."

"Maybe you should get on that. We can't have you getting ill from exhaustion."

"My realm-"

He shot her a silencing look.

"If I sleep, I waste time. If I waste time, I waste already endangered resources. We have no idea when Loki may strike. For all we know, he could be on his way here right at this second, and we would have no other option but to use the Aether." She gave a cruel laugh, adding, "Not that we won't use it otherwise."

"And if you don't sleep, you're weakened for the actual attack. Loki will have the upper hand on us if one of our allies is napping on the field. If you fall, he'll just be able to take us down and take you away, along with the Aether."

"If I fall, he will kill me. That's the unspoken agreement we have in this battle, Captain."

"You don't believe-"

"The Trickster sees himself my father, but he also sees himself a king. How many times do I have to tell you? Mortals are too idealistic, too set with their beliefs of family and justice; Loki will have me killed in this battle, whether he means to or not. We are warring in our final encounter. By the end of this, you will either have a dead nemesis, or a dead queen."

Though he knew it was on account of her rule, Hel seemed unbothered by the fact that her days were numbered. It was as if life had been a burden to her. She looked at her feet, still wearing those butterfly shoes Pepper had managed to go out and buy, as the soft trill of a bird could be heard on the balcony outside. Steve looked out the window – a robin redbreast was sitting on the black bar, singing with its chest puffed out, and for a moment he wondered if Hel brought winter creatures to every land she visited.

"Well, in that case, you should definitely get some sleep."

A second later the young Queen found herself being lifted from her seat, before she was tucked under the covers like a rag doll in its cot. They were wound so tightly around her that she had to fight to free a hand, and even then Steve had been quick to start closing the curtains.

"Goodnight, Helena," he said, a smile on his face as he strode to the door, "I'll come wake you up for dinner."


	24. Potentially Dangerous

Thor faced Fandral without so much as a quiver of doubt in the man's loyalty. There was no anger in his eyes for following Loki's orders, no reprimanding or condescending tone as the warrior spoke of what happened, the people around him, and how he had managed to believe Loki's illusions were the men they had grown and fought with.

By the time Fandral had leant back against the silver wall of the interrogation room, he looked exhausted. Aged. It was the first time in two weeks since Thor thought him capable of talking, since it seemed Loki's magic had taken its toll on the spritely swordsman. The pits of his eyes were stained black as ink, the eyes within bloodshot, and his hands almost trembled as he placed them on the grey table standing between the two friends.

"I thought our King had defeated him," he admitted, quiet and ashamed, "I allowed myself to believe a fantasy, because I didn't want to believe Loki could so easily infiltrate our walls. It pains me to think our people were no more than a few feet underneath me, locked in our own dungeons."

"Do not blame yourself too harshly, my friend. Loki is sly, and for whatever reason he thinks himself entitled to Odin's throne. We cannot afford to feel ashamed of our mistakes; mistakes that are understandable, given the circumstances."

"Did Queen Hel attack me, prince?"

Thor froze for a moment. Ever since Hel and Steve had entered their friendship, it felt like 'Queen Hel' was disappearing more and more. The curious little girl he'd known pre-war was suddenly returning, and he glimpsed her presence whenever his faithful leader had entered the room, only to watch her vanish again as Hel salvaged the façade of what she believed to be her true self.

"Yes. She thought you would stop us in our efforts."

"I still feel the energy at night. It feels like she was stronger, that her magic was more powerful than it is in the stories. I've…I've no idea how she could be that strong, Thor. It's not natural."

A chill ran down the prince's spine as he looked at his friend. The familiar face was wrought with confusion and fear, a deadly cocktail of emotion that crept and thrived in the shadows, and made him look much older than he actually was. In the two short weeks that Fandral had been on Earth, it seemed he'd aged a thousand years.

When Thor spoke, it was with a grave understanding; "I fear she's stumbled on an aspect of herself not meant for our universe."

"What do you mean?"

"Once – when Loki was still a fellow warrior – he told me how every magic-wielder has a locked potential inside of them. A potential he said was never meant for our universe."

"How could that be?"

"If unlocked, the magic-wielder can become more powerful than anything we could ever imagine. More powerful than Mjolnir, the Avengers, and even the combined forces of Asgard and Muspelheim. To this day, I wonder if a war between all the Nine Realms equates to the kind of power he was talking about.

But he told me to rest assured, as a magic-wielder could never hope to unlock this without first going through horrific circumstances, and themselves changing until they are no more than a shadow of who they used to be."

"And there was no fear in that, because all our current magic-wielders are born into privileged societies…"

Thor gave him a look that confirmed his theory. So long had the magic-wielding bloodline been limited to wealthy families and towns, it seemed that none of them would ever meet the circumstances which would unlock their potential. They would never have reached into the inner sanctum of their mind, because there was nothing outside of it that made them retreat that far. But now, if Hel had found that place in which her magic became black and strong, she stood the potential of becoming something no being should become. And Thor felt it his grim duty to stop that happening.

"If Hel has that kind of power at her fingertips, I fear for Loki's life." His admission didn't fall wide of Fandral, who sat bolt upright as if he had just been slapped. They had discussed the possibility of ending Loki's life many times, and he had always noticed how reluctant Thor seemed to admit there may have been need for it. But to hear him openly say it – that he feared for the life of a traitor? It felt like a punch in the jaw.

But he spoke with respect in his voice; "Loki has made his bed. Let him lie in it. Hel's participation in his removal can only be a good thing, and once this matter's dealt with I'm sure we can then move on to quelling her talents."

Thor's face lost its last vestiges of hope.

"Once Loki has been removed, I fear Hel will not take to us as a friendly society. She'll hide herself away again, as she has done so many times before. For a hundred years we could hear nothing from her. We could see her demons, perhaps, when they come to the markets and impart her letters, but she herself would be hidden. Until she comes back with a vengeance."

"Vengeance, brother?" the warrior looked confused. "What vengeance could she want from us?"

The question echoed in his head like a melancholy note of music. It drifted through his possible answer, his options, and then came back to the front of his mind only to do a second circuit. Why would Hel return to Asgard? Why would she seek revenge against them? It seemed so obvious, and yet so concealed at the same time. Much like Hel herself.

"To avenge Loki, perhaps. Or to avenge her loss of innocence. She could believe herself to be bringing justice to the horrors she saw as an infant, or she could even be doing it as a way to calm herself about what happened to her demons.

Hel's motives are mysterious things. I know her in her heart to be hurt, but I haven't a way to ease her pain without first seeing the destruction of Asgard. That's the price we will have to pay to give her back a stolen childhood, Fandral. It's a price I'm not willing to meet."

"Nor I. But by the way you say it, I doubt we'll have a choice if it comes to that."

"We can defend our home as best we can," he acknowledged, "But if what Loki was saying about potential is true, we must keep in mind that Hel will be more powerful than many of our enemies. And her view of us will be jaded by centuries of hurt."

They were silent for a moment. A depressing air had filled the room, as if the thought of attacking their rival realm brought them sadness, when it actual fact they were both mourning for different things. Despite his leaning towards Asgard and quick forgiveness for what Odin did, Thor still loved his niece, and in some ways it was more painful to watch her have this slow, inevitable descent into madness than it was to think she had been killed outright. It was like watching a loved one fade away without the power to stop it. Those brief moments Hel returned when Steve was around brought Thor hope, but somewhere in his mind he knew that hope wouldn't amount to anything.

"Will we have to kill her?"

"If we are able to."

"Why do I feel so unhappy about that? I've no ties to this girl, and I can only recollect a handful of times where we've spoke on civil terms. Why does it hurt me so to think of her dead?"

Thor looked up from where his eyes had fallen to his hands. He wanted so much to believe they could never kill Hel. He wanted to think they could talk sense into her before she came for their lives, or that Steve would show her a path to her infant self that she had ignored since her coronation. It was a possibility. But it was also unlikely. And he knew that, if worst came to the worst, he could never disobey an order from Odin – an order that would say 'kill.'

And so, with grimness in his voice, the prince said; "We can do no more than plan for the future. Our feelings must be put to one side. At the end of this life, Fandral, I only hope I will not be responsible for the death of two family members."


	25. Roots of Truth

Hel walked the roots of Yggdrasil as timidly as she would an enemy's lair. The black sky above her oppressed the Tree, turning all that was good into something evil, something twisted, as a warbling cry sounded in the unseen distance ahead of her.

It always unnerved her to think that the Tree of Life looked so dead. Often, when she was lying awake at night and Garm's body hadn't yet sent her to sleep, the Queen wondered if it was symbolic of something to come. If the Tree of Life's decrepit state was a warning sign for events which were inevitable, and all that lived had to sit back and watch as their precious universe was consumed by its inescapable fate.

The steam that rose around her did nothing to urge her on, much as she wanted to take to the skies and fly away from that cold place. It wasn't a normal cold. It was the sort of cold that crept into one's bones and laid there like tar, freezing the joints until they were stiff with age. The very idea that it could be colder than Jotunheim made her laugh, but not when she was confronted with it.

There was no laughter in Yggdrasil. There was only silence and the sense of being watched, broken only by a cry of an animal she'd never seen.

"_Come to speak with us, Queen Hel?"_ that familiar voice rose from a murky black pool, which every time she walked past seemed to grow darker, "_Our Lady of Death; come to speak with us?"_

"No…" she whispered. The crown on her head glittered for a moment to show her a little bit of the way, but even her amethyst eyes had died in the oppressive shadow. They turned green again as though to remind her of her roots, just as the Tree reminded everyone of their misfortune.

"_Liar." _A soft, cruel laughing rose from the barely moving surface, though somewhere beneath that tar there was a body slithering through mud. It looked and reminded her of Jorgmundr, and yet it couldn't be further from her scale-backed brother.

"A walk," she told it, now realising that the pool was appearing wherever she went, no matter how far she walked away from it. The smoke and shadow would clear to reveal it lying there beside the road, itself cracked and broken, as though taunting her of the power Yggdrasil had. "Just a walk."

"_Why not walk in Midgard, my Queen? Green grass and open air; Midgardians wandering all those pointless, petty steps, their lives growing shorter with every breath they take…"_

Hel folded clasped her hands together in front of her. They formed a neat little ball at the front of her coat, where the black buttons and silver clasps were encrusted with froze.

"There's too much noise. When you walk in Midgard, there's no thinking. There's only existing."

"_They have no need to think. And yet, there's still one that draws you in. Like a little toy on a string, he's pulling you away from us, away from your duties; Helheim shall fall…"_

"Be silent, will you?" Hel clambered up a small hill. The road broke nearer the top like a sad grey ribbon cut with jagged scissors, and beside it stood a mound of rocks with a little rock pool in the middle.

"_A war asset. That's your purpose to him, my Queen, and that shall forever be your purpose if you succumb. He keeps the Aether from you because he knows it will make you stronger. He lies to you with his care – why would he do it if not for his own end?"_

"Perhaps the Captain has a code. Honour. Or perhaps he sees me-"

She stopped herself from saying it. Saying it would only make her suspicions real, and she much preferred this snake-like creature to be kept at arm's length.

Hel walked over the hill and soon found herself back on the road. She knew from memory that it wound and meandered around a gorge nearby; somewhere deep in her heart, she was sad that Yggdrasil had become so known to her.

"_Pitiful little Hel, always being so optimistic. Has life taught you nothing? Are you doomed to repeat your mistakes? Even your own father left you for dead; why would this Captain want anything but your blood?"_

"My blood…" she paused for a moment. It was true – her blood was more valuable to most than her life, and never before had anyone dared to get close to her in the hopes of shedding it. If Steve really was after her death, he had employed a devious tactic. One even she hadn't anticipated.

"An astute observation," she said as she carried on her pace, "and one that won't escape my notice. He and I are merely business partners. When the orchestration of my father's death is complete, I doubt he will take any more notice of me."

The gorge dipped in front of her in an abrupt appearance, and in an attempt to save herself Hel almost toppled into it. The angle gave her a small insight into what lay at the bottom. In horror, she saw a giant, hulking mass of something underneath – a thousand writhing, eel-like bodies, all of them barely submerged in a half-stream that filled the entire pit.

"_Come to speak with us, Lady?"_ the voice whispered again, "_Come to speak with us. There's much we can tell you. Much we can say. If you doubt for a moment our wisdom, remember that crown…"_

Her crown. She had stolen it from right out under Thor's nose, creeping past her uncle in the dead of night to retrieve it from its glass case. Once he had heard about its teleportation use, it seemed the great warrior wasn't keen on giving his niece that kind of escape route. Poor man couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to protect it. And it was hers. It was a part of her realm that had survived Midgard with her.

"My crown has nothing to do with this."

"_He'll take your crown. He wants it for himself. Captain, Trickster, Inventor, Monster; they all know you, and they all think you weak. That crown has made people ravenous for your life before, strong and capable warriors. Do you not think they will do the same?"_

A hundred voices were speaking. Or was it one? She could never quite tell when it came to Yggdrasil. The endless tendrils and arch-like roots echoed with pain even she shied away from, and to pinpoint one voice amongst the thousand silent cries was a difficult task. For some, it may have been impossible.

As she stared at the writhing, wriggling mass of black just below her, Hel suddenly found herself wishing that magic-wielders were an abundant race. Only they could walk the roots without undergoing horrific transformations. But as there were so few left, she never came across anyone when she made the trip, and that isolated her more with each time she went.

"Of course; you say that because you want to get under my skin. You want my sanity as well as my service." She began to walk along the edge. "That must be it."

"_We will have neither if you continue to allow your deception. Your views are jaded for a reason, my Lady…" _the blackness closed in on her until even she couldn't see the path, and yet Hel kept walking. She walked because she knew if she looked back down, her mind would break. "_Your hatred will spawn a prosperous reign…"_


	26. Relationship Advice

"There's something particular about the way you are, Tony."

Hel spoke quietly, as if the very presence of her voice would shatter what the inventor was doing. The experiment – what she assumed to be an experiment, because it was nothing but blinking diodes and whirring gears – took the shape of an Ironman suit, which a few hours ago she hadn't even seen.

Dishevelled and only faintly aware of her presence, Tony waved a hand at the young Queen. It was a sign that he had heard her, but didn't want to break his concentration on what was proving to be a difficult task. The guts of the suit were lying in front of him and he, like a mad, wicked scientist, kept his hand steady, pouring various nuts and bolts in gestures Hel couldn't define with mere words.

The lab around them was in a state of disarray. With bits of old machinery and tools in every crevice, the girl felt it was a wonderful slice of disorder in the otherwise tidy Tower. She loved it. She loved the chaos of it, and how it revealed to her that delicate part of Tony's life – that craving for the insane, which no matter how much he attempted to stamp out would sneak through the soles of his shoes like a plague. All the pestilences of a doomed personality were around her, soft trills ringing through the air in mourning for normalcy.

"Damn it," the bearded man growled, "What aren't I doing right? Come on, come on, come on…"

A fountain of sparks poured from the strange crowbar-shaped machine in his hands, which lit up his face until he looked ghost-white. Pepper had warned him about keeping his beard trimmed, or else it would go up in flames. Nice to see he had taken that to heart. The whiskers were trimmed to the point where they were unruly, but not enough to put them at risk of inferno-related death.

He turned, taking off the googles that were strapped around his head. They left a red imprint around his head.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked as he glided past Hel, who had taken up a seat on the adjacent worktop so she could see what he was doing, "Not that I'm not thrilled to have you up here, but Steve's probably wondering where you are."

"Am I his pet? I don't need his permission to wander my prison."

"Had a falling out?" Tony dipped behind his worktop to fiddle inside a hidden toolbox.

"Not in the strictest sense of the word, no."

"Hel," he was back up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders like any big brother would, "He's one of my best friends and the leader of my team, but I'm a collector of Captain America gossip. Ergo – tell me everything."

She let a twisted smile transcend her face, cold and cruel to the point where it made Tony wonder how she could have been a little girl. He always reminded himself that Loki was her father. It made it easier to think that creepiness took many guises, and evil took them all.

"There's no gossip. He bores me if I spend too much time with him. And there's one bit of wisdom my mother gave me – 'A man's only worth as much as the entertainment he gives you.'"

Tony wrinkled his nose; "Sounds hard-core feminist to me."

"What is that?"

"A feminist. Normal ones are okay; more 'equality with men' than 'dominance over men.'"

"My mother could easily have crushed my father. He was a weed whilst she was a tiger. They worked well as unit because of it – he concealed her, and she beat back his enemies."

"How else do you have a working relationship?"

Hel stared at the man in front of her. How else indeed?


	27. Her Keeper

The Aether's voice grew stronger as the days trickled by. Hel took to her room for most of the day, and when she was seen everyone would note how much paler she was. Her very being looked to be sucked away with every passing night.

It was on one of her wanderings that she got the sudden urge to see it. Hand ghosting along the old shelves of the tenth library she had discovered, the Tower seemed to come alive with noise, like she had just activated a switch and an orchestra was welcoming her presence. She covered her ears, but whatever scream she uttered fell silent in the din.

"_There you are!"_ she could hear one voice in all the thousands, "_And yet, here I am!"_ again, she couldn't tell if it was male or female – it was collective but singular, strong yet weak, and as she tried to pluck it out of the many others it scurried further away from her. With her hands covering her ears, Hel fell to her knees on the hard wood floor, wishing that she could use her powers to make everything quiet again.

Pain tore through her ears as it got louder and louder. Nothing made sense. The whole world was tilted until she felt sick, like gravity had failed and her weightless form was floating into the sky. A sudden stab of terror took her when she imagined an eternity drifting through space, with only the stars and distant planets to keep her company.

"_I can make you strong again! I can give you back your powers!"_

"Quiet!" her voice didn't make an impact on the cacophony of sounds.

"_Combine! Combine! Combine!"_

The mantra began and didn't stop going, even when she curled up, tucking her head between spread knees as her back formed a perfect curve. Her shins dug into the floor, finding there a lone splinter which broke her skin, but no amount of pain could be worse than the voices screeching through her head. Blood trickled to the ground. The voices grew louder. All around her the shelves began to fade into blackness until there was nothing but eternal, intense pain.

Taking in a breath so deep her lungs felt like they were going to burst, Hel screamed.

Steve heard it first. He awoke to the sound of Hel's screams, and with the help of JARVIS the super soldier charged through the once-silent halls to find her. He took stairs with great leaps, cleared obstacles like furniture without so much as breaking pace, and it was only when he burst through the solid oak library door that he slowed down.

Hel was still in her hunched over position with her head clasped in her hands and her eyes screwed shut. Just by looking at her, Steve could tell she was in pain. And for some reason that struck a chord in him, bringing out his protective side as he stumbled to his knees beside her.

"Hel?" he whispered, but she didn't respond, "Hel? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me."

There was a heartbeat where he thought she had died. Her skin was so pale it was almost grey, and with her natural temperature being so low it was almost impossible to say it could get any lower. He contemplated reaching forward to check her vital signs – without knowing whether or not they were different to human's – before she looked up, her eyes dull.

"Captain?" she asked in a small voice. It was the first time Steve had heard it without being reminded of her origins, and it was strangely humbling.

"I'm here," he soothed, stroking down her raven black hair as her back began to straighten and bring her up.

She seemed so lost for a moment that all he wanted to do was hold her and never let go. He wanted to turn and face the world, declaring to it that Hel was his to protect, his to love, and that no one could hurt her without first going through him. He wanted to be her father. He wanted to be the man she came to when she was upset or anxious. But some distant part of him knew that he could never give her exactly what she needed, and the one person who could was someone she despised.

Hel glanced about them, eyes confused; "There's…could you…hear them?"

"Who, pet? I can't hear anyone."

So confused was she that she ignored the nickname. Someone had been screaming not moments before. A thousand someone's. And yet here was Steve, a man she couldn't help but trust with every fibre of her being, saying there were no voices. Hel soon realised that they had vanished after she screamed, but she knew that it could have been all in her head in the first place.

"The Aether," she looked into Steve's blue eyes, "We must go to the Aether."

"What? Why?" he gave her a worried look, "We can't go see it now. It's almost three in the morning."

"SHIELD operates all night, does it not? And there must be people manning the Aether. I have to see it."

The shelves around her almost shook when she bounced to her feet, as though taken over by an unnatural energy. Hel's eyes became alight with determination as she charged towards the door, leaving in her wake a confused and concerned Captain.

"Hel, wait!"

His cries were left unheeded as she ran through the hallways like a thing possessed. JARVIS could sense trouble, and thought it appropriate to wake the grumbling Tony from his first sleep in weeks, warning him of an impending tantrum if they didn't catch Hel.

"Let her have a tantrum," the billionaire moaned while rolling on his stomach, "It's not like I can hear her."

"Yes, but the Captain can."

That had Tony up and out of bed without so much as a second thought, because he knew how much Steve cared for Hel and could only sense that something terrible had happened. On the way down to the communal floor he was met with a sleepy-eyed Bruce and an irate Clint, both of them concerned, which made the discussion in the lift something to behold.

"I swear to God, if she's managed to use her powers I'm going to-"

"If she used magic, there'd be alarms going. I've foreseen and programmed all events involving Hel and her screwed up anatomy, so it's not that."

Bruce yawned; "All the same to you two, if it's only Steve being overprotective, I'm going to have Hulk sit on him."

When the doors slid open to the familiar, catered-for-all floor, they were met with a frantic sight. Hel charged past them like lighting on speed, making their eyes whirl in their head and frightening Clint enough to ready his bow, but soon enough they realised just who it was.

"Hel?" Bruce was suddenly alert, "What's wrong?"

They only heard the girl's voice.

"I must see the Aether. The Trickster's time has come!"


	28. Highway for Hel

Tony's car tore through the traffic like a rocket, leaving in its wake a loud zoom that silenced even the nightlife. People watched as the sleek black machine dodged vehicle after vehicle and disappeared around dozens of turns, a collective thought in their head for where it could be going at such a late hour.

In the car, all five seats were occupied. Hel was wedged in the middle between Bruce and Thor, and in front of them sat Steve and Tony – the inventor in the driver's seat. Steve clutched his seat so hard that his knuckles turned white, but Hel kept urging her host to go faster, as though there were some matter of urgency that underlined her want to see the Aether.

"Hel," Thor said after they narrowly avoided another collision, "Why exactly do you want to see it? What's wrong?"

The girl didn't look at him, hands knotted in her lap and her head leaning forward; "If I explain it to you, I'll confuse myself. I just have to see it. From there on, I hope things fall into place."

Outside their little fortress, a wealth of colours zoomed past. Oranges, reds, greens and purples; they were all meshing together like a garish scarf that wrapped around the entire city, and for her sanity Hel made sure she didn't look at them. Only the Aether would make her content. She had a strange feeling that when she saw it, everything else would make sense.

Bruce, ever the patient doctor, took his time to look over the young Queen beside him. He noted how her skin had paled and her eyes had lost vibrancy, almost as if she were wasting away in front of them. Could it be that Earth was having some sort of undesirable effect? Was Hel's health linked directly to her realm? For a moment Bruce considered it, and then dismissed the idea because it sounded too much like imprisonment.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked in a gentle voice. In an act of bravery, he even touched her hand. It felt ice cold; skin wrapped around a frozen river of blood.

Hel wanted to tell him no, so desperately that the word almost fell from her lips. Ever since the Aether had been brought to Earth, she'd felt her energy slipping away, until all that was left was a ghost of her former self. Her smiles, her arrogance and confidence – it was all a front to hide the fact that she felt physically weakened, and somewhere in her mind she thought the Aether would give her a much-needed boost. It had to. If she didn't get it from that, she would have to return to Helheim without her father's head.

"I'm fine," she lied, "Anxious."

"I have some breathing techniques if you want to stay calm. Or a stress ball, if you'd prefer."

"For now, I want only the Aether. Once we have that, all else will become irrelevant."

The car made steady progress through the streets of New York, and soon enough its sporadic jolts and shudders gave Hel comfort. Amongst those strange men and their even stranger customers, she felt as though she was protected, that everything she had set out to do would come to her with their help, which made her wonder if they were as worthless as she thought. If someone gave her aid, were they not then worthy to be in her presence? If they could contend with even a God and win, did that not solidify their place in this universe? The questions buzzed round in her head as the car rounded another corner, almost hitting an innocent passer-by who swore after them.

"Pet," she looked at Steve, his blue eyes staring at her in the mirror's reflection, "will you do me a favour when we get out?"

"What?"

"Stay calm, alright?"

"I've no idea what you mean."

"There may or may not be alerts running through SHIELD right now telling them we're on our way. If they know we want the Aether, Fury's going to be suspicious at best. If they know you're with us – and angry – he's going to outright not take anything we say seriously and might even lock us all up until he's sure we're not under some sort of spell. We can't afford to let that happen with Loki loose in Asgard."

"Could I not just kill Fury and bypass the problem?"

"You could try, but I don't think even you could get the best of him. He's trained to do things right, and he does his job well." Steve's blue eyes flicked back to her from the road, which was heaving with shiny cars and their less-than-glamorous drivers. "Hel, you know I trust you, don't you?"

The comment threw her. For so long she had thought her trust was one-sided, that everyone in the car was too cunning to give her any credit with the truth. A small part of her felt almost relieved that he'd said it, and yet another part, a darker, more sinister part, linked with Helheim and her crown and every horror she'd seen, told her she now had the upper hand.

"Trust is a dangerous thing, Captain. If you can help it, never trust someone. It only ends in bloodshed."

The car finally began to still in front of an inconspicuous grey-block building, complete with a small reserved car park and a handful of parking meters on the street outside. Traffic was slower there – some cars still passed them, horns beeping and drunken drivers laughing as the team piled out of the car, but not enough to make them worry for their identity.

Hel resisted the urge to charge straight towards the tinted doors, but only just. Thor stood next to her in an attempt at comfort, and yet he saw the way her eyes sparked and her lips mashed together, small hands wringing until they were almost red. She looked just like a ghost in that long winter coat. A ghost who had a memory attached to this little street no one thought about, housing one of the biggest secret corporations in the world as normally as any other building.

"Will you hurry up?" she hissed when Tony's jacket caught in the door, "There's much to be done and little time to do it in. We must go to the Aether. I must have it. Once this night is over, only the dead will be at peace."


	29. Foreshadow and the Queen

Loki was dreaming.

He knew because he was in his old Giantland study, surrounded by the high shelves with their thousands of books, the desk he spent so many nights at littered with documents. As the God sat in his chair to look at all those wonderful tomes and family portraits, a pang of mourning went through him. The Old World was a thing of the past – he had lost it as he'd lost everything else, and now all that was left were shattered memories and a hurtful goodbyes.

Someone was behind the desk, out of sight. A faint rustle of clothes alerted him to their presence, as though in dreams his hearing had become sharper and his senses were no longer muddled by the mountains of work he had to do. He leaned over to peer at a small black head bent towards the floor, tiny hands sending bolts of purple energy across the cream carpet before they dissipated only a few centimetres away. The sight made him smile.

"Helly," he cooed, and two big green eyes looked up at him, "Have you come to help me work, or just to practice?"

He remembered this. It was a late afternoon one cold winter's day, when the snow outside had made him wary of letting Hel out in the courtyard. She was still very young by that point; it had only been seventy years since she was born, and since then her development of walking had been faster than he expected.

But he also remembered she couldn't speak by then, other than the occasional non-verbal gesture. Time had brought him to understand what meant yes and no, but it was frustrating that he'd not yet heard her voice when that was the first thing he wanted her to learn. Words were more important than physical prowess, he thought. They were capable of winning arguments and debates, of revealing secrets better left alone, and without them he could imagine nothing more Hellish than a world filled with bloodshed and stupidity.

"Come here."

The girl put down whatever doll she had been fiddling with and walked around the table. She was so short Loki couldn't see her head above the desk, making him remember just how worried he'd been when she was born; not for his wife's reputation of bearing gigantic young, but because it felt like they were going to lose their daughter at any moment. Surely someone so small couldn't be so strong? He had come to learn that wasn't the case – his daughter held within her veins magic, which would one day develop until she became a masterful little Trickster.

As Hel rounded the sharp corner of his desk, Loki's smile only grew. He saw her beautiful green eyes looking up at him in a mixture of silent awe and love, all of which he revelled in. He saw her little fingers interlocked as her hands clasped together, lips parted slightly to reveal the black inside her mouth, and how she glanced back and forth at him and his many documents. They were whispered around the house every now and again. Those rare gems that were all of Asgard's business, war and peace talks, pleas to other Realms to end their feuds before they became a problem.

"You should be in the dining room with your mother, should you not?" he asked as he pulled her onto his lap. Even her weight was miniscule.

The eyes looked at him as if to laugh in his face, but no other sound fell from her lips. Just a twitch of the nose and blinking told him that she had even heard what he said.

"And why aren't you there?"

Again, there were no words, but a change in the eyes and a mischievous smile fell over her face, until it was all Loki could do not to burst out laughing. His own smile was wide as he patted her head – the special place, he remembered, where outside of the dream world her crown now sat.

"You are going to have the universe on its knees one day, my girl. I know it in my heart."

Just then, the scene changed. Not by much; the air grew colder and the documents became old, with furled corners as though lying there for centuries, which caught Loki's attention for a moment.

When he looked back, shock gripped him.

Hel – the same Hel he had been holding, same weight and height – was staring back at him, but inside of green he was met by glowing amethyst, and instead of her long hair flowing a little past her shoulders, it was shoulder-length, with a crown at the top binding it into place.

"Trickster!" she said, and her voice was once again that harmonious trill of luminous moons, "I found you! And now I've found you, I'll see you dead!"

"No! Helly, what are-"

The eyes changed again. Suddenly they were red and gold, like Ironman's suit, and then they turned blue, red and white; the Captain's colours. In a few moments they flickered to green and purple. Then they turned all blood red, the deepest crimson he had ever seen in his life, and the beat of energy thrummed through the air.

"Daddy! It's cold in here Daddy!"

"Where?!" Loki gripped his daughter's shoulders, "Where?!"

"Where else, Trickster?!"

"Hel, tell me where you are!"

"Daddy, I can see you! Why aren't you here? Have I done something wrong? Please Daddy – save me!"

Loki gripped her even tighter, but it seemed no amount of pain would draw her out of this strange limbo of time. Hel was alternating between her toddler-like state and her new Queen personality, which made for heartache for her father.

"I'll save you, my girl! You just have to tell me where you are!"

"Save yourself!" the scene melted away and they were drifting apart, as if in space, "And may you see just how much I go through to see your death!"

"Hel!" he cried.

"Daddy?" she looked at him. For a moment, all of the confusion disappeared, and the glowing amethyst eyes dulled again to green. He could only watch as she looked around, perplexed, before she spoke again.

"Daddy?" her voice was small, "Daddy, I'm leaving. I have to go. It's cold. So, so cold…"


	30. Keep Her Waiting All Those Years

"I have no idea why he insists on making me waiting."

Hel paced outside the room the Aether was trapped inside, waiting for that all-important Fury to reveal himself and hand it over to her. There was fire in her eyes. They glowed out with such intensity that Steve feared she'd lose her sight, and yet he couldn't very well tell her to calm down. The girl was on a mission that he knew she would see to the end. He only hoped that end wouldn't see her dead, or the Aether released into a world that wasn't yet ready for it.

"There's a lot of protocol to go through," Bruce theorised as he leant against the wall, looking tired despite his genuine interest, "He's probably just finishing things up."

"What protocol does Midgard have for magical weapons? Is your entire legal system improvised, or are you making a special case for me?!"

It unnerved the scientist to think about how much Hel looked like her father when she was angry. Despite the fact she glided across the floor like a swan across a lake, her elegant steps akin to ballet, she was the epitome of frustration, with her hands wringing together and then clenching at the sides, only to repeat the process again as she moved back and forth. Bruce saw Loki in every move she made. He saw how her sharp face resembled only her father, and realised all at once that there was no other person in there – no hints at a mother they had never met, just a father with a dangerous past.

She turned again, the double doors still shut and locked; "I'll have him killed if he doesn't show his face soon."

Tony looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone. A faint sound of gunfire filled the air – the latest of his recent string of first-person shooters – but his eyes remained fixated on the girl in front of him, who so far had done nothing to apologise for the threat.

"Are we seriously letting her get away with saying what she wants now?" he asked Thor, standing beside him as he shuffled from foot to foot. The warrior's eyes looked fraught with anxiety when they looked at his niece, but nothing fell from his lips that rivalled on concern.

"She has no powers to back her threats," he reminded, not loud enough for the girl to hear, "If she were still able to use them, we would have a problem. But because she's struggling with even the simplest spells, there's no need to reprimand her."

"Sure. Fine. That makes sense. Remind me about to mention that when she's levelled New York, yeah?"

Steve turned to them with a warning in his eyes. Though he snorted, Tony looked down and tried to focus on his game again.

"She's a good person inside," the soldier began. There was no room for him to finish; interestingly, it was Thor who cut him off.

The God's glare was hard, "I've no doubt Hel would kill us had she the chance. My niece has lost her goodness."

"That's a horrible thing to say, Thor," the scientist with the weary eyes said as he cleaned his glasses on the hem of his shirt, "she's only a little girl."

"You still believe that? She's obviously not. Half the stuff she's done – no one could call her a little girl."

"I must agree with Anthony, friends. Hel is nothing more now than a shadow of what she once was, and no matter how strong she grows she'll never reclaim what was lost."

"In a war Odin started," Steve felt the pressure rising in his chest as he imagined Hel being left to fend for herself, in a land where all the trees and fruit had been burnt to cinders and they had just watched their homes being destroyed. What traumas could have still been lingering? And now they were waiting around in SHIELD in the middle of the night, just for a glimpse of the Aether which Hel claimed would solve all their problems.

But Thor seemed disinterested in reliving old haunts. He knew in his heart the war was just, and for so long he'd forgiven Odin's lies that it felt almost impossible to question him again.

"Need I remind you that we're doing important work here?!" the little voice snatched them away from their discussion, confronted with those glowing amethyst eyes, "If only I'm interested in ending my father's miserable life, I will happily do this without you!"

Despite the acidity of her words and the fury in her voice, Steve saw the truth in her eyes. There was begging there; a desperate, non-verbal plea for him to show her affection and that she was on the right path, whether he believed in it or not. To be truthful, no one knew what Hel wanted to do with the Aether. On some levels, they doubted even she knew. All that mattered was that she had it, and from there on they would deal with the consequences.

Suddenly, the doors slammed open. Out walked Director Nick Fury with his trademark scowl and coat, his eye-patch fixed over his eye as if he were a new-age sort of pirate. Sometimes, Tony wondered if the man ever slept. As he pocketed his phone on a hard boss-level and straightened himself up, he could detect no hint of tiredness in his 'technical' leader, just a weary resignation to the mess of his life.

"Queen Hel," he said out of respect, motioning for the agents behind him to skulk out of the shadows, "I trust you're well?"

"Pleasantries? At a time like this?" she took a threatening step towards him, "I'll overlook you wasting my time if you show me to the Aether right now."

Fury's scowl intensified as he matched her step. No matter what Hel did, she couldn't use her powers, and with that in mind the tiny young Queen wasn't too much of a threat.

"We're not allowing unauthorised access into the Aether's chambers. When and if it needs to be used, we'll give you clearance."

She turned to Steve; "Tell him!" he could almost feel all the eyes on him as he looked at his director, face blank but eyes murderous.

"Sir, we've reason to believe-"

"Don't tell me you're going to defend her?"

"I think she's trying to do something good here."

"She's Loki's daughter!" Fury stepped forward as Hel narrowed her eyes, "She's going to take the Aether and go straight to that madman! Why else would she come down here? Why else would she have any interest in us?!"

"Sir-"

"You mortals and your sense of family!" the girl interrupted. Her voice had grown eerie again, as it always did when she summoned the rage buried deep inside her. "Telling me about my loyalty all because of what runs in my blood! Do you not think I would have already betrayed you? Do you think I would waste my time on this Earth with my thinly veiled contempt, all in the name of some ridiculous task my father sent me on?"

She stormed to the director's feet, until she could crane her neck up to glare straight into his eyes. "Perhaps you feel my blood means my loyalty, but it holds no truth. Spill it here if you prefer…" she took a small knife concealed in one of the watching agent's pockets, though how she had seen it no one knew, and placed it firmly in Fury's hands. His gloves squeaked as he closed his fingers around it. "Cut my throat and be done with this madness. If not, give me the Aether, and let's be on our way to end the Trickster's life."


	31. True to Her Word

"We'll settle this as warriors," Hel growled as she stalked to the other side of the training room, Fury standing on the opposite with the blade in hand, "Whoever falls first must suffer the consequences."

"No one's going to die over this. When you collapse, I won't kill you."

"And when you collapse, I cannot guarantee the same."

Outside the room, behind one-way glass and tinted windows, the four Avengers stood with apprehension on their faces. No one thought Hel would hurt Fury – he was too good, and even if he wasn't her powers were depleted. But there was still that fear that the child would end up getting more damaged than she needed to be, either mentally or physically, or would go after Loki alone to prove herself when she was defeated. That was the sort of mentality she had. It would be her own fault when this all ended in tears, as Tony had said.

Fury readied the blade, though he had no intention of using it. It glinted in the fluorescent lighting above and, steadying his breath, he remembered the last time he had used a knife on someone; a young man, if he recalled, about the age of one of his recruits, but having already dedicated himself to a life of terrorism he had been more dangerous than SHIELD agents ever thought. The memory made him want to quit his job every time he thought about it, but a sense of duty and not knowing anything else made him come back.

"There's only to be one rule," Hel said as she shed herself of her long winter coat. It was the first time the director had seen her without it. Underneath she wore a white shirt with frills embroidered silver, her midnight black trousers hugging her waist tight, and the only thing he could see in the way of jewellery was a small necklace with an amethyst heart.

"What's that?"

She hated how amused he sounded. Perhaps she was wrong to pick a fight; the Queen knew she was weakened and her attacks would do little damage, but nothing made her more furious than the thought of leaving the Aether behind. Even as she faced the six foot two mortal, an urge to disappear out of the metallic room and run towards where her precious weapon was stored tugged at her legs.

"The only way to end our fight is to admit the other is stronger."

"You can admit that right now, Hel. It'll take a lot less time."

"You echo my thoughts."

"Question," Tony's voice boomed around the room, which made the girl flinch as she looked around for him, "When did I get looped into this mess?"

Hel looked up. Her eyes glowed so bright that they almost seared through the tinted glass, and for a moment Steve felt as though he could see every shade of emotion there was. Anger, hatred, fear, frustration, weakness – they were all there, and his heart went out to the little Queen as he imagined what he would feel like robbed of his serum.

"When you became a key part of this pathetic mortal team!" she replied.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, the girl stood up straight. Her eyes stared at the man before her – the man who was whispered about in the hallways, known to some only through legends and myths, and who now stood between her and the thing that would end her misery.

The fight began.

Bruce felt torn between two opinions. On one hand, he knew that a fight between Fury and Hel would see the director the clear winner. If that was the case the girl would probably stop fighting against them, and they could start working towards the capture and incarceration of her father. On the other, he hated the thought of seeing someone so young getting hurt, which brought out his more protective side as he saw her diving between Fury's legs, only to have the man pull her up again and throw her across the room.

"I can't watch this."

"We must," Thor's voice verged on grave, "For Hel to recognise her defeat, there must be an audience. It's an old Asgardian practice."

"Then why the Hell is she using it?" the scientist couldn't look when Hel was pinned to the floor; "I thought she hated Asgard."

"She does. It came out of fashion some time ago – back when I was just a boy. I suspect she does it out of irony, reminding us what we did in the past."

Hel freed her hands from Fury's grip, digging her fingers into his cheeks until the man had to reel back and let her go.

"She really does like to keep the past alive, doesn't she?" Steve mumbled. He could understand where she was coming from; her entire existence was based on something that had happened hundreds of years before, and to let that go would feel like losing her identity. Hel was born a privileged princess and would likely die a bitter queen. The thought made him frown.

"Quite the contrary," Thor moved forward to see his niece jumping on the director's back, "She talks about nothing more than the future in her addresses. I suspect she speaks so much about the past now because she feels we do not yet understand her."

"Like she wants to be understood," said Tony, rolling his eyes. It was late and he was tired, wanting to crawl back into his comfortable bed so he could sleep for the next hundred years.

Bruce was the one to rebuke him; "It's a known fact all children want stability and understanding. I'm not that well-versed in the other worlds' development and growth, but I'm willing to bet there's not much difference between them and us." He crossed his arms to fix the inventor with a hard stare. "She might not be saying it, but Hel wants us to know where she's coming from. She hasn't got the communication skills yet to tell us what she needs. She might not even know."

A howl of pain echoed from the training room. Steve shouted a second later, yelling, "No, Hel!" moments before he flung open the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Tony ran to the window. What he saw was unbelievable.

Hel had lost. While they were talking, the girl had been flipped over and pinned to the floor by Fury's knee. But it seemed her words of 'fight to the death' were meant; when the director had started to allow her up, she had lunged towards the knife and pressed it into his hand, pointing at her throat as though intent on harming herself.

Fury's mouth hung open as he felt little hands tighten on his fist. Hel's eyes didn't waver.

"You finish what we started," she growled, "Or you admit I'm stronger than you."


	32. Betrayal

"You didn't have to do that."

"You heard her. She gave me no choice."

"She's just a little girl, Fury."

"A little girl that wanted me dead. If I didn't take action, she would've turned the knife on me. I'm not to blame here. No. A man shouldn't be blamed for defending himself."

"Is that what you call this?" Steve loomed over his director, his normally even face tinged red with rage. "Punching a child in the face? Knocking them out? Is that self-defence now?"

Around them stood a white room in the medical ward, where some of the SHIELD agents went to patch themselves up after missions. Outside was the hallway, a few stray doctors doing the night rounds marching to and fro, frowns on their faces, and a noise in the distance that sounded like a heart monitor. Nothing else could be heard. Occasionally there would be a pathetic coughing, but it never lasted long and it was so quiet no one knew what direction it was coming from.

Hel lay on a pristine white bed just beside them. Her pale face looked dead, the only indication she was alive being the slow-forming bruise on the bridge of her nose. Bruce took his time to make her comfortable – plumping her pillows, draping the covers over her, placing her coat on the chair opposite – before he checked her vital signs, because it still unnerved him that she could look dead without being dead.

"She's stable," he interrupted the glaring between Steve and Fury, "But that's going to leave one Hell of a mark. I'm surprised her nose isn't broken."

Thor, who had his hand clutched around his niece's dainty fingers, let out a sigh. Everything that had happened to her so far had been a result of wanting too much power; a fate that had befallen her father, and portrayed him as a tyrant. If history was doomed to repeat itself, Hel would be a villain he would have no choice but to kill, since her monarch status on Helheim would never be enough to satisfy her, and the magic running in her veins would be too dangerous. She hadn't yet gained full control of it. And her hatred made her unsuitable for any type of peace talks.

"Her bones are strong."

"It shouldn't have happened. You could've done her serious damage, Fury, and where would we be then?"

Tony looked up from where he sat. It was across the room, on a chair pressed up just behind the open door so he stayed as far out of the situation as possible. But no matter how far away he got from her, how he much he reminded himself she was Loki's daughter and would one day be an enemy to fight against, the inventor couldn't help a tug of empathy as he stared at her bruised face, couldn't quell the protectiveness that burnt through his chest.

"Loki would kill us if he could see her now," he mused, half to himself.

Thor nodded; "Yes, he would."

Fury rolled his eyes before shouldering Steve away, which only served to make the super soldier glower down at him again.

"Considering the fact he left her to die on her home world, I don't think I'm going to take that threat too seriously."

Thor looked up from his niece, his blue eyes burning with anger as he took Fury in and spoke in a low, menacing voice.

"Loki loves Hel very much," he said, "No matter what's happened or what will happen in the future, I know that will never change."

"Excuse my disbelief." Fury growled.

Before anyone could rebuke him or offer their own opinions on the matter, the director turned. Of all the things he thought he'd have to do that night, punching a little girl in the fact was not one of them. It wasn't even on his bucket list. It was just one of those situations that arose in his line of work – something he had to do to make sure his people were protected, no matter how much it made his skin crawl to think about.

"Tomorrow, I expect you all to have written your involvement in this and put it on my desk by the afternoon. I need something on record."

Tony went to say something, but he was cut off.

"And if you don't do it, I'll be forced to tell my superiors why."

With that he left the room, not looking back at the half-dead young girl he had punched as he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

Everything was quiet. The cough sounded again. Thor kept his eyes fixated on his young niece as the entire world seemed to silence in mourning for her.

"The Aether," he said, the air jumping with the sound of his voice, "We must get it for her."

Steve shook his head; "No – it's too risky. You saw what she was like. It's better to keep her as far away from that thing as possible."

"If we don't get it for her, she will only grow worse. And once she has it, perhaps then we can take the fight to Loki." Thor's fingers tightened on the little hand before him, which felt cold to his touch, "I just want this to be over with, friends. I want Loki put in the dungeons where we can care for him, and Hel to go back to where she belongs. She's not happy here. She will never be happy here."

With a heavy sigh, Steve lowered himself onto the only free chair in the room, making it impossible for Bruce to keep fussing over their injured guest. It forced the scientist to pay attention to what was going on around him – a dangerous issue, he knew.

"If we start this now, Thor, we might not be able to save him. Hel will kill him before we have the chance to capture."

"I know," the God looked sadly at the small face on the pillow, "But whatever must come will come."


	33. Quiet, the War is Coming

Loki was arming himself.

Before him in the throne room stood throngs of enthralled people – Sif and Volstagg were the most notable out of the faces, and they stared up at him with glazed, loyal eyes. All they could see was the new King of Asgard. Their memories felt weak and unimportant, as though the blurred images that came to mind had happened hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

The God had kept an eye on Earth and what was going on there. He hadn't quite seen the attack on his daughter, but he had heard enough from those dull-minded Avengers to know Hel had been assaulted by a 'director Fury.'

He had known she wasn't safe with those monsters, no matter how close she had become with their leader. Whenever they looked at her they would have seen him, noticed his features in her face, noticed the wicked glee in her eyes when mischief occurred before she had the chance to smother it. They would have noticed _him_, not her. Hel was a baby that wasn't met for mortal life; she was the glue that held together the process of death, and until her own time came she would forever be an integral part of this delicate system.

"Tonight," he announced to his expressionless people, pacing to the edge of the throne's platform, "we go to Midgard. We fight til the death if we have to. Your loyalty to me and to this crown will give you strength, and your determination to protect your princess will make you a force to be reckoned with!"

Mindless cheers of agreement were fired back at him, from Ladies and Lords, warriors and peasants, and even Sif and Volstagg let a murmur of raucousness slip.

"Midgard has taken from me something more precious than all Asgard's wealth. It has laid claim to something that is mine by right. I want you to rescue her from her imprisonment; with her, you will bring the Aether, to make sure those Midgardians never think to come and sully our mighty realm!"

More cries, more agreement with a man they thought to be their King. Loki almost felt sorry for them. It had taken weeks to imprint the idea into their minds – only his fair Lady Sigyn had yet to wake up, for her mind was more complex than he thought and the spell was taking far longer to take effect. But he wouldn't dwell on that. All he wanted now was the Aether and Hel back on Asgard, where he could use the weapon to fortify the realm and start to rebuild what was lost between him and his daughter.

Hel sat on Steve's shoulders, clutching the super soldier's head as he ambled through the park. It was a peaceful day. Children ran back and forth under the hot sun, squirting each other with brightly coloured water guns while their parents looked on, themselves favouring to stay in the shade where the heat wasn't quite as strong. She saw babies with white cream all over their faces and arms, and their fat bodies wobbled on checked blankets like oversized squashes balanced on their ends. The grass looked healthy; perhaps she had missed the look of fresh life, because her eyes wandered over it and the babies almost independent of thought.

"It's a lovely day," Steve commented when he realised she had been quiet for a long time.

Hel didn't react immediately. Instead, she let her eyes roam around the blissful scenes in front of her, noting how the parents smiled and waved at Steve when he wandered past. "Yes."

"It's nice that everyone can come to this park and relax. Seems like there's no real worries in the world."

"I doubt that."

She felt a warm hand lift and press against her back, as though making her position more stable. "Yeah, so do I."

They were silent for a little while after that. Steve seemed content to walk Hel through the most beautiful areas of the park, strolling past a lake where swans glided across the glass-like surface, dodging a hive of bees just in time for Hel to notice it and reel back. Her bruise hadn't yet disappeared. Perhaps it was Earth – her healing powers seemed to have been slowed, and for a frustrating length of time she had felt more and more like a Midgardian.

"How're you holding up?" he soon asked, just after they had avoided a collision with a speeding cyclist. Hel glared at the man who zoomed past them, who then got distracted by her eyes and lost control of his bike, swerving until he ended upside down in a thorny looking bush.

"Surviving," she muttered, "there's much I can learn from your team. The doctor – what was his name, Bruce? – has been teaching me how to care for my bruise. It no longer hurts as much." To demonstrate, Hel clasped a finger over the purple mark, and then continued. "And the Widow taught me how to block attacks more efficiently. At least without my powers. It took a while but I soon mastered it."

"Sounds like you're really settling in."

"I'm becoming used to your ways, however odd they may be. When I return to Helheim, I will have much to tell my people."

Steve stiffened a little bit at that. He didn't like to think about her going back to that world, not after he had spent a bit of time researching it and learning that it was not quite the comfortable life there. His hand gripped her back tighter, and he spoke in a strained voice.

"Well, that's something."

"I like Bruce. He's kind. I never thought a Midgardian would have so many interesting observations about the world."

"Really now?"

"Yes – he keeps me entertained. I should like to have his keen eye in my realm for a while."

"He'd be very grateful you think that, pet."

"And that other one – Tony. He has a fire about him. The same with Barton. They are the passion that holds your team together, are they not?"

"I wouldn't go quite that far," Steve waved at a couple holding a squirming baby, beaming at him and performing a dignified salute, "We're all pretty important."

"Yes, but without passion your team lacks their dynamic. They may be difficult to crack, friend, but Barton and Tony are two of your essential players. If they were to die in this battle, I don't think the Avengers would recover."

Loki strapped his last piece of armour on with a wicked smile on his face. Finally, he was taking the fight to the Avengers, making them responsible for stealing his precious daughter and indoctrinating her into their Clan. Yes, he had attacked her, and yes he had a history with her that was less than noble, but as her father he still had rights. Hel wouldn't be a patsy to Midgardian culture. She would be strong and dignified in her realm, away from the prying eyes of people who would notice she hardly aged.

"Hel?"

The girl looked down at the super soldier.

"Yes?"

"When this is all over, what're you going to do next?"

"Go back to my realm. Take stock of my souls and decide whether or not to practice my magic. See Garm. I miss that oaf."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"I care not for good or bad plans. When I was born, my destiny was written in the stars. Whatever I preoccupy myself with before then is irrelevant – I will end up how I was meant to."

"And…what about Loki?"

Hel's eyes changed ever so subtly.

"I will mourn him."

"I thought you hated him?"

"I do. I hate him with every fibre in my body; to see him dead will be a blessing. But he's still my father, and duty calls that I mourn. Once he has died, there will be nothing left for me to direct my anger at. I will be…lost, I suppose. Mourning will help me overcome that."

"You're starting to sound more and more like a mad daughter, Hel."

"You would believe," her eyes flashed, "and yet, mad daughters don't typically shed their father's blood."


	34. So Comes the Fall

Fandral was in a state of shock as Thor told him of his plan, sparing no details when he spoke of Fury's battle with Hel and how they had decided to steal the Aether themselves. The warrior rocked back and forth on his chair, his face expressionless, his fingers drumming a steady beat on the bare metal table in front of them until Thor had finished his explanation.

Once he had, the God looked him straight in the eyes; "When the time comes for us to take it, Fandral, I hope I can count on you to be at my side."

"At your side? At your side?!" the red-headed man looked up, eyes sharp and fierce, "You expect me to march into battle against my own people, with someone who would rather see me dead, armed with the Aether? A weapon we hardly know? A weapon we risked a great deal to secure and send away?!"

"Hel spared your life in the museum, did she not?" Thor fired back. He was calmer than Fandral, though his eyes sparked with an authority given to him by blood. "And she's proved herself a capable study of the Aether. If we're to give it to anyone, it should be her."

"Please. You believe that no more than I."

With no reason to deny it, Thor looked at his hands. His fingers were clasped around the edge of the table until the skin turned white, and he felt as though there was something bad coming their way. His stomach had been gnawing away at itself since he got up that morning. Every time he turned he felt like there were eyes on him, someone watching him, but whenever he called out for Hel she never crawled out of her hiding place.

"Is there something on your mind, friend?" Fandral asked, pressing his foot against the table as he folded his arms over his chest; "Whatever it is, a burden shared is a burden halved."

"No…there's nothing. I only wish you would reconsider. I know Hel doesn't instil faith so easily, Fandral, and I know her history may make you wary with her use of the Aether, but do you trust me? Do you trust in my leadership?"

The warrior began to lower himself back to the floor, all the while his eyes stayed fixed on his friend.

"Of course I do, Thor. You've proven your wisdom when it comes to war."

"Then believe in me now – Hel is the only one capable of using the Aether. If afterwards she turns on us…we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Please, Fandral. I need your help."

Hel was in the Tower's training room, watching Steve as he sparred with Natasha, her mind wandering over what would become of them when the war was over. She knew she belonged to Helheim, and leaving it would mean leaving all sense of 'life' she had cobbled together. But some part of her wanted to stay on Midgard, wanted to be with Steve and learn from his experiences of the world, so one day she too could become as loved as that patriotic hero. It helped that whenever he looked up he seemed to be checking on her; he made her feel special, like a father did a daughter, and that thought terrified her more than she cared to admit.

"Time!"

The pair leapt off of each other, panting and hauling themselves to separate corners of the training match. There was what Hel called a recuperation camp – a small patch to themselves with water and a towel, where they would sit for a few minutes between sessions so they could gather their bearings.

"You alright there, Hel? Do you need anything?" the super soldier asked as he took a gulp of water. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down like tiny waterfalls, and yet he seemed as revitalised as he'd ever been.

"Fine," she called, "Interested. Why do you fight each other?"

"Training, mostly. Keep ourselves in shape." Natasha was the one to answer her, though her reply left Hel looking at Steve. She knew there was more to it than that.

"And it's a bit of fun. If we didn't spar with each other every now and again, we'd go insane with boredom."

"I never see Tony down here."

"That's because he's already insane."

Hel felt the corners of her mouth rise in an amused smile, and Steve smiled back at her with his goofy grin. She had come to love the man for his quirkiness. It wasn't his war ability or trouble with references to modern culture that caught her attention; it was his constant kindness, his patience and good-heartedness to all those he met, not to mention his comments about the inventor. Old friends, she presumed. She'd heard Tony making similar comments about him.

"Fandral, I know how hard it must be to swear your allegiance to a plan like this. I appreciate your loyalty."

"I'm only doing this because Asgard must be rid of Loki, once and for all. If it weren't for that, I would call you insane."

The warriors stared at each other, knowing that in the end, this war could mean the end of their lives. They would die as they had lived. As legends, as brothers in arms, as two people with a fierce loyalty to those they loved.

"Steve," Hel yawned as she was picked up, wondering distantly when she had fallen asleep.

"I know, pet. Don't worry about it."

"I can walk."

"You don't have to. I'll take you up. Sleep, pet."

His voice was soft, as though coxing a new-born baby back to sleep. His footsteps on the stairs – they had moved quickly, she thought – were careful, and he soothed her each time there was a 'rough' bump.

"Don't worry, pet. I'll take care of you."

"I know."

Steve smiled down at the little pale face before him, nuzzled against his chest until he couldn't see the bruise on the bridge of her nose. All he could see was her closed eye, big as it was, as she drifted back into the land between sleep and consciousness.

"I love you, Hel," he said before he could stop himself. His breathing stopped for a little while and her eye opened, suddenly awake, to stare at the man carrying her.

Her eyebrows furrowed. She looked at him for what felt like an eternity. When she opened her mouth, he was ready for anything; a reprimanding, an argument, a retort—

The Tower shuddered as somewhere in the distance an explosion went off. Steve kept a tight grip on Hel as he reeled back, trying to regain his footing, before she pried his fingers off of her and started running down the stairs.

Tony was standing on the communal floor, phone clasped in one hand as he stared at the ceiling. She ran to him – if anyone knew what was going on, it would be Tony.

"What just happened?!"

"I don't know-"

"Sir," the computerised voice descended on the room just before an alarm started blaring, "A breach has occurred on the right side of the Tower. I've locked all the surrounding rooms, but it seems they're blowing up my precautions."

"Who's they?!" Tony yelled in reply as the trio took off running towards the laboratory. Steve needed his shield, Tony needed his suit; it was a good thing the lab was the most secure room in the Tower.

"They appear to be Aesir, sir. I believe Loki is with them."

Hel wanted to freeze at the name. She wanted to look at Steve for an explanation, climb into his arms and hide, but as a queen she had come to resist those urges. All that mattered now was getting to the Aether.

"Take me to the Aether, Captain. I must have it now."

"Hel, we can't-"

"Thor and Fandral are at SHIELD. They will fight whoever stands in our way, if anyone at all. Ironman – you will fly us there, will you not?"

"I can take you, Hel," he said as they rushed through the code-locked doorway, locking it behind them, "but Cap will have to stay here and defend the place."

"Tony…I don't want to leave her alone." Steve placed a hand on Hel's shoulder, but by then she was too busy thinking about how she would combine herself so quickly with the Aether. She hadn't planned for things to happen so soon. She thought they would take the fight to Asgard, where at least her powers worked and she could hold off on the Aether until they really needed it.

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, Captain." Hel reminded him, but her voice was softer than she intended as she brushed his hand away; "You and the Widow must defend the Tower. Keep the Trickster occupied until we have the Aether. When we return, that's when this war will be in our favour."

Thor and Fandral heard about the attack through a SHIELD agent. They rushed into the room looking flustered, babbling something about 'giant spaceships' before they were off again, and neither knew what was going on until the first surveillance images came up in the main computer room. When that happened, they knew they were out of time.

"Fury," Thor growled as he rounded himself on the director, who was barking orders left and right, "We cannot fight Loki like this. We're too unprepared. He will have us all killed."

"This again? Didn't I make it clear last time? You're not. Having. The. Aether."

Seconds later the doors slammed open to reveal Tony in his suit, and beside him stood a breathless Hel. Her hair was springing all over the place and her face was even whiter, but nobody said a world as they strode into the room where agents were rushing to get things done.

"Now is not the time for negotiations," Hel said, her voice a pant, "Either you give me the Aether or you watch your precious Midgard burn. Those are your only options."

"There's got to be another way."

"Fury," Tony's words were for once firm and void of all mirth; "Loki's attacking the Tower. The only people there are Hulk, Cap and Widow; if we leave them alone for much longer, Prince Psychopath would've already taken three of our best guys out. We have to take a chance here."

He turned to face the little girl before him. He knew what she was capable of – beneath the glowing eyes and pale skin was a killer, a once 'Forest-walker' as she sometimes called herself, and if anyone was going to defeat Loki it would be his own flesh and blood. He didn't have faith that she would remain loyal to them. But he knew that, if he didn't convince them to give Hel the Aether, her father would kill three people he cared about.

Fury took them both in for a minute, as though contemplating just what had gotten into Tony's head, before he turned and barked at some agents to get the Aether. Hel held his gaze when it turned to her.

"I want one thing clear," he growled, a finger raised as he crouched to her level, "This doesn't mean I trust you. The minute you turn on us, I'm taking you out."

"Director," she growled, "What makes you think you'll be able to?"

Before he could reply, Hel was called for. She walked out of the room without looking back, confronted with the terrifying prospect of ending hundreds of years' worth of anger, hatred and hurt as she was led down the hall to the Aether.

Fury watched her as she went. Somewhere in his mind, he'd made a plan that would see her dead. He treated all outsiders with hostility – it was just his way, and so far it had meant that he'd lived where others had died. So lost was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice Thor walking up behind him to stand like a solid brick wall.

"Today, I either see my brother or my niece dead," he said in a grave yet acceptant voice, "It will be a sad time in Asgard."

"So it shall be." Fandral agreed.

Tony felt a strange pang go off in his heart when he thought of Hel dead; "But…he wouldn't really kill her, would he? He's her dad. He's…she's really the only thing he's got left, isn't she?" he hated how confused and vulnerable he sounded. This was Hel's life on the line – not his.

Thor looked grave. It was a time he never thought he'd see. It was a time that meant the death of one or both of two close family members, and his heart was aching when he thought about the funeral. It would be Hel's second, he recalled. The first one she had survived.

"When the time comes, Loki and Hel will defend themselves to the death. With the Aether, she'll have an advantage. But…Loki's cunning. It can go either way from here."

Tony wasn't sure how he felt about that, crossing iron-clad arms over his red and gold chest-plate; "I…don't think I can watch a father kill his own daughter."

"Perhaps you won't have to. She may yet win."

A howl sounded somewhere in the headquarters. Before anyone could make a move, the doors slammed open again, this time to reveal Hel surrounded by a crimson, gravity-defying ooze. Her eyes were the colour of blood. It was as if the amethyst in them had been stained until it was more ruby, and her mouth was quirked into a cruel, evil snarl.

"Today, the Trickster dies." She growled, her voice sounding as though it was combined with a thousand others. "We take the fight to him. I will have my revenge. The Aether is mine."

And with that, Hel disappeared from the room in a cloud of blob-like red, as though her blood had been congealed and given magical powers.


	35. Fighting the Past

Hel appeared on the top of the Avengers Tower, holding her arms up to the sky as she felt power flooding through her veins. Her vision was tinted red. All she could see was bloody skies and crimson-coloured buildings, and her father high above her in an Asgardian patterned spaceship.

Loki was alerted to her presence by one of the serving girls, who stood in the main chamber of the biggest spaceship to make his takeover more comfortable. The God jumped to his feet, eyes determined, walking over to the huge glass window that allowed him to look down at his little girl.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

His daughter was surrounded by the Aether, floating around in gravity-defying blobs which threatened to envelope her. The sight of her little limbs encased in that blood red made him want to vomit. Her eyes were like rubies; he could see them from there, glowering up at the strangely shaped ship engraved with Asgardian design.

"Trickster!" her voice broke the Tower's windows and shattered nearby whiskey, bourbon and coffee cups, "Too long have you escaped retribution! Today, you will compensate for your crimes! You will give me what's owed; your blood!"

There was a moment when everything seemed to go in slow motion. Sound was muted as Loki looked at his daughter – his little girl, beautiful and pale and so like him, despite how much she denied it. He had known this day was coming. The day when he had to decide whether or not he would do anything for the crown; whether or not he would kill his own daughter to gain his rightful place. And because he had tried his best to push away that thought, he hadn't chosen what he would do in the situation.

Hel's hands stretched up and pointed at the spaceship, charging up purple energy with streaks of red strewn, and it roared out towards the ship in a sudden burst of noise and chaos.

Close, in the clearing that the Tower overlooked, Captain America was fighting back hordes of strange, hump-backed looking dogs, who with their great fangs could throw up entire trees, their claws big enough to tear an entire fuselage to shreds. Their saliva he swore was sizzling when it touched the grass. Their eyes were menacing – dumb and Hell-bent on killing him, they sparked with a malevolence that he wouldn't have thought possible for even hunting dogs, and they lumbered towards him at break-neck speed.

"Widow, I need some help over here!" he yelled as his shield was thrown out again, only to knock one of the beasts off of its feet, "There's too many of them!"

"I'm a little busy!"

The spy was preoccupied with keeping the fangs away from her as she dived between the dogs, cursing herself that she hadn't foreseen the attack. It was obvious; after Hel's assault by the director and her apparent closeness with Steve, Loki would have been enraged. Her only question was how the God could have seen them. How had he been spying on an invulnerable Tower? Was their some spell, something he had cast on Thor and Hel moments before they had left Asgard?

Hulk roared on the tops of buildings, yanking spaceships out of the sky. They came down with almighty crashes but the pilots weren't so easily beaten – Asgardians poured out from their wreckages, wielding things that looked spiked and painful, as the three Avengers tried their best to gain control.

"Enough of this!"

The voice caught Steve's attention. His shield hugged tightly to his body, he turned, only to see what he'd always dreaded – Hel, standing on top of the Tower like royalty, her arms outstretched as rays of purple magic erupted from her tiny fingers. Above her loomed the biggest ship of them all. Through careful elimination, the Captain decided it must have been Loki's.

"Come down here and face me, you coward!"

A loud zoom and a flash of red and gold announced the arrival of Tony, and behind him came Thor, Mjolnir and Fandral. The Asgardians stared at their people as though they were seeing them for the first time. In a way, they were; enthralled peoples were not the same as un-enthralled, with vacant expressions and hearts filled by unexplained rage. Sif and Volstagg identified the two warriors as their equals – they must have, because the pair bore down on them without so much as a moment's hesitation, and the whole clearing had soon erupted into a battleground.

Loki appeared from the ship. He came down on a strange winged beast and hurtled towards his daughter, though the creature didn't get far. Its beak became red with flame the closer it got to the Aether and, sure enough, it too exploded into a fireball, its feathers like a torch as Loki jumped off and rolled onto the Tower's roof.

"Trickster," she greeted, her voice so eerie that he couldn't help but notice it. He walked towards her despite the fear making his blood cold, trying to keep some sense of indifference on his face as he stared at his little girl.

"Don't call me that," he warned, hand clutched over his sceptre, "Hel, come with me. I can make you safe. I can give you power."

"Power? Have you seen what I've become?!" she laughed and stretched her arms out to the floating red blobs, "I have the Aether! I have all the power I need! The Avengers, Asgard, YOU – I'm above all of you! I'm more powerful than anything in these Nine Realms!" charging towards him, Loki had to force himself to stay still; "I'll kill you. I'll kill you for what you did to me."

The God couldn't help but reach forward. His hand touched the side of her face in the first real contact they'd had in years, and he shuddered at how cold she felt. For a moment, Hel didn't move. Her eyes flickered from red to amethyst, and then green, as she allowed her father to cup her cheek and stare at her in a sort of trance.

"Come with me," he whispered, "I swear to you, I will do anything to make up for what we've lost. I'll be a better father. I'll give you anything you want. But you must come with me."

Again, the scene was slow. Hel reached up to touch her father's fingers, looking deep into his eyes…before her own changed back to red and purple erupted from her hands.

He was thrown back and narrowly avoided falling off the edge. Using whatever strength was left inside him, Loki pulled himself up, facing his daughter as she took up a fighting pose and let her hands spark out with magic.

"We end this today, Trickster!" she called.

"Very well." He sighed, readying his sceptre; "If that's your wish."


	36. How This Ends

The fight was bloody.

People had fled the clearings and stowed themselves away in the buildings that surrounded them, staring out at the war that had enveloped their world. Asgardians poured from their wrecked machines like a river down a mountain, bearing down on the eight defenders with no signs of stopping. It was a nightmare. How would eight heroes defend millions of lives, without first sacrificing their own?

"Hel!" Loki yelled above the din of battle. His face was plastered with sweat, his long black hair sticking to his forehead as he tried to regain his breath. His daughter was in much better shape. The Aether must have enhanced her stamina – she was using spells she hadn't yet learnt, couldn't have hoped to use without massive exertion and practice, and somewhere Loki realised that she had unlocked the much-feared potential within her. Hel had seen too many horrors to have lived fully in the outside world. A part of his little girl had retreated into her mind, and within it she had found that well of power not meant for time and space.

But at the sound of his voice, Hel stopped throwing the balls of energy at him. Many of them had been deflected and froze tinted windows on the buildings surrounding them, where people were now blinded and could only listen to what was going on outside.

"Stop this madness!" he pleaded, voice noticeably strained. He wasn't quite begging her; she regarded begging as kneeling and asking for her forgiveness, and his refusal to do so ignited her fury.

"Not until one of us is dead!"

Down in the clearing, Steve was trying his best to get things under control. Between the salivating Hell-hounds and the Asgardians, he felt his power draining from him, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to gain the upper hand. Thor did the best he could to stop his people. He called out to them, attempted to gauge their memories by telling them all they had done, all they had witnessed, and how their mighty realm had flourished under their sense of justice.

"Remember that now!" he begged, missing Sif's blade by mere inches, "Remember Asgard! Loki is not your king! Remember the Allfather!"

She cried out once more and swung for his head; an attack that again missed and was met with a swing from Mjolnir.

Hel's magic felt like it was spiralling out of control. She clung to it by the skin of her teeth, keeping it back just a notch until it felt like all Hell would break loose and she would lose it to the Aether. It was too late to wish the thing out of her body. Wishing had never done her much good. Now was the time for her to gain what she had sought all along – her father's blood soaking into Midgard's concrete, and his crown to place in the highest trophy case in her castle.

"Your attacks do nothing," she laughed when he hit her with a weak paralysis spell, hoping it would quell her long enough for him to talk some sense, "The Aether protects me, Trickster. Can you say the same?"

He hissed; "The Aether protects nothing but itself. You will lose yourself to it, Hel."

"Never." Her red eyes narrowed at him. For the first time in centuries, Hel wondered if her father was right, and subsequently pushed that thought away as she charged another attack.

"We need to get Hel some backup up there!" Steve screamed down his earpiece. One of the huge dogs ran up behind him, but the moment those great fangs went to sink into his hide an arrow zoomed in from the distance, exploding just centimetres away and sending the thing barrelling into a nearby tree. The Captain nodded in the direction it came from – it was about time Hawkeye appeared.

"She's handling herself fine, Cap," Tony's mechanical voice came in, "Worry about your crash course on dog-handling."

Hulk's roar deafened everyone for a moment. Asgardians were thrown off by it, and it gave Tony and Clint an opportunity to catch them by surprise. Fandral was busy trying to neutralise Volstagg – he wanted the warrior to live, and the only way to do that was to make sure a fellow Asgardian fought him.

"Come, my friend!" he pleaded, dancing between the swings of Volstagg's mighty axe as they battled on a tower-block, "Think of Brunnhilde! Think, will you?!"

The near inhuman squeal he got in reply spurred Fandral into offensive action. He charged forward and flourished his sword, dodging the axe by mere inches before he was pressing the blade to his friend's neck; a feat not many could accomplish. As he brought his hand on the warrior's shoulders, they toppled until they were lying down, the ginger man's head dangling over the side of the building. Volstagg's eyes swarmed with artificial loyalty, the only loyalty meant for a false king.

"I know it's never been your strong suit, you lumbering oaf, but will you go down into that empty head of yours and bring yourself to think?!"

Fandral's scream echoed from the top of the building they were fighting on. For a moment, all seemed to still around them, and then Volstagg's eyes changed.

Recognition.

"F…Fandral?" he murmured, "Where am I? Why is your sword at my neck?" he looked up to notice the war going on around him; "What is this?!"

Fandral let out a dry laugh, "I'll explain later, my friend; for now, we must defend our prince!"

Back on the ground, Captain America and the Black Widow had finally made some progress with the dogs. It turned out their weak spots were located just on their stomachs, and with a renewed vigour the pair went after them as though possessed by a demonic spirit. Natasha's flips and turns had her looking as elegant as she did deadly. Steve's shield flew out and returned in a matter of seconds, his acrobatics more like that of a gymnast.

"Sif!" Thor tried once more to reach the woman he knew – the woman he had fought beside and would forever recognise as a friend; "Listen to me. I know your mind is muddled, but try to see sense. See what Loki has done to our proud people. I remember your loyalty to them. Try and find that loyalty now; try and become that warrior I know you are. Fight this, Sif. Fight for Asgard."

Sif's eyes went glazed for a moment as her attacks stuttered. Looking at Thor, they went from glazed to confused, and confused to alarmed.

"What's happening here?!"

"Fight with me, Sif!" Thor wasted no time in grabbing her hand, and with a stern sense of determination the pair dived back into the battle.

The dogs were starting to be defeated. Only a few stragglers remained, and the Asgardians were slowly beginning to come out of their enthrallment through the combined efforts of knocks to the head, Hulk's roars and Thor's battle cries. Loki barely had time to register the fact his war was falling apart. His daughter was growing out of control. Her powers were becoming supercharged, to the point where her little body was vibrating and he could see sweat pouring from every exposed inch of skin. In a moment of clarity, he realised she wasn't strong enough for the Aether. It was a hit that shook him to the very core; if Hel had it inside her and wasn't the ideal host, it would kill her.

"Hel, listen to me," he pleaded between strikes, "You must separate with the Aether. You have to separate with it!"

"Do not try to stop my power!" she yelled. Another purple ball flew at his head, and he dodged it so it hit the strange, tube-like lift behind. It melted into hot slag.

"It will kill you, Hel! Please, kill me if you must, but separate yourself with the Aether. You're not strong enough for it, my girl."

"I'm not your girl!"

The Avengers were charging up to help Hel in battle. Helped by Tony, Hulk and Thor, the non-flying three were flown to the top of the Tower and landed there with expert precision, expecting fully to take on Loki and put an end to his plot. But when they got there, they were faced with something else entirely.

The red blobs had started to circulate around Hel like a maniacal version of Ring o' Ring of Roses. The queen had her arms outstretched, but they were trembling, and her pale face had become a noticeable grey as she moved towards her father. Loki was crouching down on one knee, looking at his daughter in complete and utter horror, before he caught sight of the Avengers. The irony of the situation didn't even occur to him. Instead, he looked at Thor, and the brother understood exactly what was going on.

"We must separate them!" the Trickster cried, "It's the only way!"

Thor was spurred into action. Following his lead, the Avengers accepted that they were now fighting against Hel, and Steve sent a silent prayer that they would win.

The Aether's container appeared in Tony's hands. Ever with his foresight, the inventor had grabbed it and placed it in a compartment on his suit, thankful that this bulkier version had more storage space than others. It was thrown to Thor as he dived underneath the girl to stand beside his brother, and Loki provoked Hel as best he could.

It broke his heart to say it; "You are never going to be a good queen, Hel!"

She screamed and threw another purple ball at them.

"You are nothing but a child playing with responsibility! Your entire realm is a joke!" Loki yelled as he dodged her attacks; "No matter what you do, you will _never_ escape what happened! Giantland is destroyed because of you! All of those people, all of those Giants – they're dead by _your_ hand! You failed them!"

"No!" another purple ball, another missed attack. Thor took the time she was distracted to open the container, and he willed it to still be imbued with the Aether's spell.

"You turned your Giant-lings into demons; your mother's disappearance and servitude was your fault! You wandered that Forest and you learnt _nothing_!Hel, you're nothing but a little girl! A frightened, pathetic little girl!"

As she opened her mouth to shout again, levitating off of the floor while the Aether began to swarm around her, Thor tipped the container towards Hel. Suddenly ignited, the Aether began to extract itself from her veins, and in a cacophony of red and purple Hel began to lose her power.

"No!" she shouted, trying to start up her magic. She dropped to the floor and landed on her feet, like a cat would if dropped from a great height.

"It's over, Hel," Loki announced, "You failed."

"It's not over until one of us dies!"

And with that, the girl charged forward. A sudden shot rang out behind Loki and Hel stopped dead, as though transfixed by something they couldn't see. Eyes turned to the edge of the Tower.

There, standing on a hovering board with the SHIELD logo, was Agent Hill. Her gun's barrel smoked as she held it straight out in front, aimed for the queen.

Loki turned back. Hel was clutching her stomach, her throat convulsing as she tried to take in air, and when she removed her hands he saw red beginning to stain her coat. It spread quickly. He charged forward as she fell to the ground, unable to keep herself up as the blood was lost.

"No!" he screamed, falling to his knees and lifting her head up. One of his hands pressed against the wound in a desperate attempt to stem the blood flow. The Avengers looked on, stunned into silence, immobilised by what they had just seen.

Hel's throat convulsed again. She looked at her father with half-lidded eyes, the red having disappeared, and the amethyst slowly fading. Through gurgles and gasps, she tried to speak.

"Shh," Loki said through his tears, "It's alright. Look at me, Hel. I will fix this. I will make it alright – just stay awake for me, yes? You can do that for me, can't you?"

Thor crouched down beside his brother to take in his niece. The wound was more a geyser of blood. It poured out without restriction, staining the white of her coat red as her face lost what little colour it had. She tried to breath, but her throat was convulsing too much to take in a proper breathe.

"Fa-Fa-Father…"

"Shh, my Helly. Save your strength," Loki's voice was more a soft plea as his hand, now stained red, pressed harder to his daughter's stomach.

"C-c-cold…so cold…"

Thor's eyes were wet with tears as he reached down to touch her face. The girl barely reacted, her body shuddering while she tried to stay conscious. Her father turned, eyes wild, and looked at Thor in a helpless manner, as though asking him to fix what had been done. No amount of magic could make a wound like this heal. Not on Midgard, at least, and his sceptre was only imbued with spells for war.

"D-Daddy…Daddy…"

"Yes, Helly. I'm here. I'm here, my girl. I won't leave you."

Hel's hands came to rest on his; "I…sleep…"

"No, stay awake. You must stay awake. Wait until we go to Asgard; we'll find you a healer, and then you can sleep."

"Too…too long…Daddy…Daddy…I'm…I'm sorry…"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Loki's tears leaked down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to Hel's; "Please don't leave me Hel. Stay awake. I've already lost you once. Don't make me lose you again." His tears dripped onto her face. Thor tried his best to keep some sense of dignity – he had to stay strong for Loki – but even he was breaking. The Avengers watched and, with the sudden realisation of what was going on, their own tears filled their eyes.

"Daddy…I see a light…"

"Don't go to it. Don't. Stay here."

"Frigga…"

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat as more tears poured down his face. His hand pressed harder to his girl's stomach, and he touched his nose to hers.

"My girl," he whispered, "please, don't leave me."

"I…I love…I love you, Daddy…"

And just in those four words, Loki felt centuries of pain and torment disappear from Hel's body. Every muscle relaxed as he pressed a soft if teary kiss to her head, and her twitching joints stilled as he spoke.

"I love you too, Helly. You will always be my girl."

He looked down into her eyes. They looked back up at him, big and green like the day she was born, silently contemplating the end with a sense of complete calm, before her throat convulsed one last time. Her body twitched, she let out one more gurgle, and her head fell to the side, the light dying from her eyes as she stared out into nothingness.

Loki's face became contorted in pain as he brought his lifeless daughter back to his face, crying as though the universe had come to an end, pressing his forehead against her cold cheek while his enemies looked on.

"Goodnight, my princess," he wept, "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

For the second time in her life, Hel, Queen of Helheim, descendant of Laufey and the daughter of Loki, had died.


	37. Ritual Sacrifice

What happened in the hours after Hel's death were a blur. For Loki, even the sounds were muffled.

He only remembered being manhandled to a park and clutching his daughter's body tight to his chest, his cheek pressed to the top of her head as the memories of their short time together flooded through his mind. When he focused on their surroundings, he realised they were in Asgard, on the Bifrost Bridge, and that his feet were moving towards the palace while a thousand eyes watched him go. There was no anger in them. There was no hatred or scorn or belief that he deserved what had happened. There was only sadness as they saw the lifeless Hel in his arms, so small and delicate, her trademark white coat stained with blood.

Somewhere behind them, Loki became aware of the Avengers through abstract means – a name here, a cough there. They were no more important to him now than they were decades back. All that mattered was that he got to the palace, so he could put his daughter down and show Odin how he'd already been punished for his crimes.

Thinking ahead, he didn't care what the King did to him. The Aether was secure and on its way back to Taneleer, who he was sure would be overjoyed to hear of the young Queen's death. The Aesir had returned to their rightful realm, free of enthrallment, with only the faintest headaches to show they were enthralled at all. Everyone had won against him. The battle he thought would finally put him on the throne had served to rob him of the last thing he cared about.

"Brother," Thor muttered from beside him, and all of a sudden he realised that the warrior had been with him all along; "I can take her from you, if you prefer. You look exhausted."

Loki shook his head, "No. I won't have anyone else take her from me."

Behind them, Steve watched the pair talking to each other, his mind reeling as he caught glimpses of Hel's limp feet over her father's arm. To him, what had happened felt too much like a horror story. This wasn't the happy ending he dreamed about for the girl. He wanted to offer her a home in the Tower, take her out to church and show her that the universe still had beauty in it, whether she believed it or not. Never had he thought she would be killed in the fight, despite her emphasising the possibility at every turn.

And by Agent Hill, no less! Not the Aether, not her father, not some insane Asgardian under Loki's spell; Hel had met her end through a single gunshot, and in some ways that brought her down to human level. She had told him, he recalled, that one day death would rule her too. He just never thought it would take her so young.

"Will you have her buried here or in Helheim?"

"I haven't thought of it yet."

"Preparations must be made, Loki. A funeral here will be the same as last time; with the demons and Garm, if they would be willing to attend."

"My poor girl," Loki tightened the arm that propped her head against his chest, pressing it closer to him as he felt her cold skin. "I should have saved you."

Agent Hill was in shock at what she did, and so had left to speak to a counsellor at SHIELD. Fury chose not to attend the meeting with Odin. Too much to do at work, was his excuse. What he hid was the fact he too had his breaking point, and if he could avoid it he wouldn't subject himself to looking at a slain child.

The throngs of Asgardians parted for them when the team reached the palace. Loki accepted Thor's tightened grip on his shoulder, looked up only when he heard a familiar cough, and found himself staring at the greying beard of Odin. At his side stood Heimdall, who for once had a glimmer of emotion in his amber-coloured eyes.

Odin's lips parted when he saw Hel. He gestured to Thor, who bowed his head downwards as if in confirmation. The King squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back for a moment as he took in a sharp inhale of air, and then looked forwards to recompose himself.

"Come inside. Make sure he's clapped in irons."

Moments later, Loki was encased in cuffs and chains, his arms still tight on his daughter as he studied her grey face. He had closed her eyes since leaving Earth, he noticed. He thought it was more respectful; she looked so at peace, he could have almost believed she was sleeping.

Odin stood high up on his throne. He always did it to intimidate the people beneath him, whether they were his own people or dwellers of neighbouring realms. It was something that had irritated Loki, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care as the Avengers flocked in a semi-circle around him.

"Loki," he heard his name, but didn't look up, "Your crimes against Asgard have mounted to warrant the death penalty."

The God nuzzled further into his daughter's hair. Death had already taken his life away. To kill him would only be a formality.

"If you wish to be considered for any other punishment, now is the time to make your plea."

His green eyes flicked up to stare at the King, the man he had stupidly called a father, and when he spoke his voice was like hot acid.

"My plea is in my arms," he spat, "Kill me if you must. Why should I live when this universe has taken everything from me?"

Odin's eyes softened considerably as Loki's face dived back against his daughter's forehead. Despite all that had happened, he felt a twinge of pity for the God. And for the young girl that was lying in his arms.

"Perhaps…not all is lost."

Emerald green eyes appeared, "What are you saying?"

"There's a ritual – forbidden, of course – rumoured to bring those belonging to Helheim back from the dead. Your mother attempted it when she went to retrieve Baldur. It's written that only the ruler of the land can grant the soul to return, and if they do it can be with a consequence."

Thor and the Avengers all held their breath. It felt too good to be true. Each of them were guilty for the death of the young girl – who wouldn't be? If there was some way they could take back what had happened, to reverse time, they would do anything…save endangering a thousand other lives.

Loki's face filled with a mixture of confusion, sadness and intrigue, which was a strange combination to see; "Hel was the Queen of Helheim. Without her, there is no ruler."

"Ah, that's where you are wrong," the King stood, "She wanders the roots of Yggdrasil until a successor is named. It's a dark place, Loki, and she won't enjoy it there, but until we have appointed someone in her place she will remain the Queen of Helheim. It's up to her whether or not she wishes to come back to this world."

The God's hands tightened over his daughter. All at once, he felt a bloom of hope in his chest, a glimmer of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. He could return his daughter to this universe. He could give her a life where his actions had taken one, and perhaps rebuild the relationship she had reconciled in her death.

"We have to try." He decided, voice determined.

"But I cannot in good conscience allow you to raise her, Loki. You can't be trusted."

"I'm her FATHER." Loki's incredulous glare was up again, his mouth agape.

"And you attempted to kill your brother and destroy Midgard just to gain the throne. I have no evidence to show won't put her in danger."

A burst of rage saw Loki staring up his King, wondering whether or not to kill him for his hypocrisy, but when he remembered Hel lying in his arms he thought better of it. Instead, he turned, and came face to face with a man he had sworn to hate.

"Captain," he said, looking him square in the eyes, "If I bring her back, I want you to take her. She must have a father. Someone who loves her. If I'm not permitted to do that…I know she was close with you."

And after a moment's hesitation, Steve nodded his head.

"Very well. Come," Odin descended the stairs, "Your punishment can wait. The ritual must be prepared quickly."


	38. The Tree of Choices

Yggdrasil was just as Hel remembered it – cold, evil, lifeless, and dark. The creatures that hid in the shadows were still unseen to her and the black pool, now more like tar than anything else, whispered as she sat on a large, jagged boulder at the foot of one of the arch-like roots.

"_Is death cold, my Lady?"_ it asked, or taunted. She could never quite tell with that thing.

"Yes," there was no point in lying when her skin was so grey, "Very cold. How long must I stay here?"

"_As long as it takes them to name a successor. Your death will cause some heavy thought, perhaps."_

"I don't know if that comforts me," Hel lifted her sleeve up to touch her wrist, the tip of her finger making smooth circles around her veins. There was no blood running through them anymore. It would have unnerved her to think she no longer breathed, no longer had a beating heart, and yet the only thing she had on her mind was her father.

As soon as she had admitted her love for him, which was something even she hid from herself, all that anguish that had kept her going became nothing but a faint buzz in the back of her mind. It hadn't quite disappeared, but it was so miniscule that it made up not even a fraction of her being. For the first time in a long time, with her dying breath, Hel felt as though she had taken in clean air, and just like that it was robbed from her.

"_Your mind is busy."_

"No. My mind is clear. That's what puzzles me."

"_Death will have that effect. Let it take you, Hel, else all is lost and you cling to past hurts."_

"I atoned for what I did, you know. For all the hurt I caused. For the deaths by my hand. I atoned for them all. It took me no more than saying sorry, and I felt for the first time I could see the universe in a clear light." The circles became long strokes across her skin; "I could see beyond me a sea of stars and the planets nestled amongst them. The lines between the realms became blurred until they were no more. I no longer ruled Helheim, nor did Odin rule Asgard; instead, they were but places we could cross into and hear of in our lives, with beauty abundant in every corner, life bursting where once I thought there could be none.

For centuries, I hid from myself, believing no one could love a broken toy, and thinking I wanted no love in the first place. Now I see the error of my ways. Too late, perhaps. At least in my death, I have brought the suffering of one to an end."

Even Yggdrasil seemed to change with the light of her revelation. In a small corner near one of many roots, which craned towards the sky and was misted over by an eerie swath of thin clouds, a small ray shone and revealed a sprout of green, and subsequently died when it touched the frozen air.

"_Lady of Death; you speak without sorrow."_

"I feel none," she patted down her coat, the red leeched from it to reveal its pure white fabric, "Today has been enlightening. My father will mourn me, but at least now he knows me to be dead, and perhaps through that he will find peace."

The silence came back. With it Hel was allowed to think, remember all of the things she had been through, which for some reason were as fresh as if they had just happened. The black pool beside her left her mind as she pondered over what could have been done differently, what could have been avoided and left unsaid, the years of torment she went through in the name of something she couldn't quite identify. Why had she shown such blind hatred to those who loved her? To hurt them? To push them away? Even she didn't know, and she realised the answer would never be clear cut.

Suddenly, a voice boomed over the tree. So loud was it that the creatures flying in the air squawked and appeared, zooming out of the skies to hide in unseen dens, and the scuttling vermin near the tree burrowed further into it. Hel jumped at the sound. It was the first voice she had heard in…it felt like eons.

"_Through sludge and tar and laws of old, in plains and lands forever cold, where they took my daughter, my girl, my life, and left me here without her light. Listen to cries and ancient words, hear me with my thoughts so stirred; bring her back, Helheim's Queen, and give me back my life's one gleam."_

She knew the voice; it had not been so long that she'd forgotten her father's voice. She heard him and felt his pain through every inch of undead skin, knowing in her heart that this was something he could never get over if she were to stay behind.

"I thought there was no successor?" she said to the pool, leaning slightly against the rock as one leg stood on the ground, "How does he speak to Helheim's Queen if none exists?"

"_He speaks to you, little Hel. Only you can decide whether or not to go back."_

"What? But death is a final end. It can't be reversed."

"_Perhaps, and perhaps forbidden practices change what can and cannot be true. This is your decision, Lady of Death. Do you break your own rules to re-enter a world of pain?"_

"I…"

Hel looked down, pondering her options. On one hand, her death had happened, and in good conscience she would adhere to the rules of the universe and progress on to the next life. On the other hand she was death's overseer, and could bend those rules ever so slightly to be reunited with the living.

But did she truly want to return? That universe held nothing for her but pain and misery. Whereas there was a fresh start in a different dimension, perhaps with the memories of what she did wrong and could correct another time, where she had come from was more like a place she had already left her mark. Did she want to be there again?

"_There must be a consequence, Queen,"_ the pool spoke again, "_One consequence for breaking old laws. It's for you to decide what that might be."_

With a nod, Hel looked up at the black sky, and made her decision.


	39. Near Happy, Final End

The blood of those that loved her made a small circle around Hel, just large enough to look like a thin piece of string. Candles were placed at her head, feet and sides, their flames dancing in the darkness as what little light they gave washed over her grey face. Standing above the candles were four people – Steve at the feet, Thor and Odin at the sides and Loki at the head, arms outstretched, his voice a low rumble as he repeated the ritual's words over and over again.

After yet another beat of silence, the God looked up with a scowl; "This isn't working. What am I doing wrong?"

He lowered his arms and looked to Odin, as though he thought the old King could answer. All he got in return was a sad sort of stare, a stare that said things Loki didn't want to hear, and again he lifted his arms and repeated the words with a renewed determination.

"Loki," Thor said with a soft voice, "Perhaps Hel has chosen to stay behind?"

"No. No, she would never do that. Not Hel."

"It's a possibility. This life hasn't been kind to her."

"She would never leave it behind if she had the chance to come back. She's far too stubborn to turn tail and run."

Steve couldn't help but notice the tear in the corner of Loki's eye, and recognised for the first time that this was his last chance. This ritual and whatever preparations that went with it were his last chance to reach out to his daughter. No wonder he was so desperate to see it succeed.

"Perhaps we should take a break?" Steve offered.

"A break? At a time like this? Breaks will not help me bring my daughter back, Captain," the God hissed, "Perhaps you haven't notice, but there's quite a skill with magic required here that doesn't take 'breaks' into consideration."

The super soldier silenced, only because he could see the murderous rage in Loki's eyes and wanted not to provoke him anymore. He watched as the God took his place back up, lifted his arms and spoke again, but like the last tries it met nothing but silence, no twitching limbs or colour to Hel's cheeks.

It seemed that all was lost. Nothing but a maddening stillness as Loki dropped to his knees and cradled his daughter's head, letting a single tear fall before he whispered;

"Please, Helly. Come back to me."

The change was subtle at first. A ball of golden light, the size of a pin top appeared just above the candle flame. Soon, four rays appeared and formed a little triangle over Hel's grey corpse, and before anyone could react Loki looked up and noticed them. The God jumped up, holding his arms out, his face the picture of hope as the light descended over his daughter's body.

A soft, harmonious trill echoed through the throne-room as Odin and Thor were stunned into silence. It grew louder and louder until it was all they could hear, making Steve cover his ears, forcing Loki to take a slight step back before he thought better of it and moved forward. The light grew more intense. They all looked away when it reached its climax.

"Hel!" Loki cried out.

With the sound of his voice, the light vanished. The noise died as though it had been nothing but a nuisance radio in someone's home, and Steve had to blink a few times for the room to blur back into his vision. When it came clear again, he could see Thor staring with a mixture of shock and love, and Odin's mouth open as if he hadn't seen anything more surprising. Confused, the soldier looked down.

Sitting there, in the middle of a circle Loki had made himself, amongst the soft candlelight that gave everything a calm glow, was Hel. But it wasn't the Hel he knew. She was smaller, her eyes seemed bigger and instead of glowing amethyst, they were green, just like Loki's. Her little mouth was a hard line as she stared at the men in front of her, and then her eyes fell on the God that she knew so well – the God who had been there for her entire life, as far as her memory served.

Loki scooped her up into his arms without so much a second's hesitation; "Hel! My beautiful, beautiful little Helly! My girl!" he cried, overjoyed, nuzzling into her neck as he pressed her against his chest, "I missed you!"

"Daddy?" her voice was like a thousand luminous moons looking down in a blue-hazed clearing, gentle and soft, yet ethereal, "Daddy?"

"Yes, my girl. Here I am. Here I am, and I'll…"

Remembering his agreement, Loki trailed off. He wouldn't make another promise to his daughter that he couldn't keep. But looking at her as she was, young, a toddler again, it felt almost as though her consequence for coming back was to repeat that period in her life, as though she was giving him a chance to correct his mistake and give her the childhood she deserved. Perhaps this was Hel's way of saying she loved him? To give him an opportunity other people could never have, and to gift him a daughter where he thought he lost a life.

But that thought was unhelpful, and with a heavy heart he turned to the Captain. Hel nuzzled into the familiar, warm-scented shoulder, clad in green leather armour. For her, it only felt like she had been asleep for a long time.

"Captain," he said, a hint of melancholy in his voice, "Please…be mindful of her. She's a mischief-maker."

"I'll do my best," he promised as he plucked the child out of his arms. He never thought that Hel could have been lighter than she was before, but this younger Hel was perhaps the lightest thing he had ever carried. If he was hedging his bets, he would have said even his pre-serum self could have picked her up.

But as Hel was transferred from father to soldier, the girl started crying. She didn't know why; something about being moved away from Loki caused her sadness, as if before the sleep she couldn't have truly appreciated what it was to be close with him. Odin watched as the God began to calm her, whispering sweet lullabies under his breath while stroking her hair, and then looked up at Steve in confusion.

"What's wrong?" the soldier asked.

"I have no idea. She's not normally like this. At least, when she was this age before…" he shook his head, "Perhaps it's the shock of coming back to this life. It should wear away soon. When…when you're on the way back to Midgard."

The sadness in his eyes was there for only a heartbeat before it was replaced by something else.

"About her care," the God cleared his throat, straightening himself up to his full height as he flattened her hair down; "Her bedtime is at nine every night, with the exception of the big holidays and travelling. When she's ill, you must give her honey and tea, make sure her head is elevated, check her temperature – at its highest it reaches normal human standard, but it should be much lower – and make sure she gets plenty of rest. Now, her favourite story is gruesome, but try to cut out the more bloody parts and focus instead on the relationship between the princess and her mother."

Steve felt himself nodding, but the sheer amount of information made his head want to implode. He had no idea which way was up at the moment. How much could Loki remember so much about Hel's care when it had been centuries since he had to do it?

"And her favourite food is strawberries dipped in cream. Or anything with sugar in it. But sugar makes her a bit excitable, so try to limit it to one small treat every two days, and large treats when she's done something exceptionally well or you feel her behaviour needs to be rewarded. About behaviour – she's a mischief-maker, I've mentioned. The way I used to deal with it is by freezing her in place until I could give her my undivided attention. Perhaps you can't do that; in that case, follow her, and do not give her anything to preoccupy herself. Even without her powers she could use it in very, very surprising ways."

Loki went off on a tangent, and by the time he was finished Steve felt like he had just gone on a crash course on how to be an ideal father. About the only thing that had stuck was to not give Hel too much sugar, and keep her away from Tony at all times.

But where Steve had been dumbfounded, Odin was impressed. He never thought Loki to be such an attentive father to his children. He could only hope that Fenrir and Jorgmundr had received the same treatment; it was quite possible, since those boys were headstrong and thought themselves above the common care of others.

"Well," the God finally said, "That's it. I…suppose you should be going now. It's nearly time for her dinner, I think. What time is it on Midgard? Ah, nevermind."

He turned, putting his hands on his hips as he walked away from the pair, and hoped they would leave quickly.

The moment Steve turned, Hel looked over his shoulder and stretched out her tiny hands, tears in her eyes as she whimpered, "Daddy."

Loki shook his head; "Not anymore, darling. Your life is on Earth now. Be a good girl, won't you?" he could feel the tears stinging his eyes.

"Daddy."

Odin could see the heartache in Hel's eyes. It was something he had seen in Frigga's when they lost their son, in Thor's when he lost his citizenship and in Loki's when he had lost his daughter. It seemed that history was doomed to repeat itself, giving Hel one miserable life after the next. Unless…

"Wait."

Everyone froze. The King stepped forward, armour on, staff in hand.

"Loki," he said, pointing the tip of his staff at the God, "Are you willing to be imprisoned in Asgard under the watchful eye of our keepers?"

Loki didn't understand at first, though when he made the connection he nodded as though his life depended on it.

"And will you teach Hel to be loyal, true and friendly to Asgard, so when she goes back to Helheim as a Queen she will keep ties to us?"

"I will."

"Then, by my orders," the King nodded to Steve, who with a sudden want to escape fatherhood approached Loki and placed the girl back in his arms, "you may keep Hel, and raise her here in the palace."

There were tears in Loki's eyes as he hugged the girl close to his shoulder, nuzzling deep into the special spot on her head and taking comfort in her scent. For the first time in a long time, he felt complete. Things were falling into place, and he had his daughter – his precious, precious gemstone.

Thor beamed at him from where he was standing. There were no happy endings in real life – there would be hardships soon, bumps in the road – but for now, without those problems in mind, it felt as close to a happy ending as they could get.

"Daddy," Loki looked up to see Hel's soft green eyes looking at him, void of everything except love and acceptance; "I love you."

"I love you too, my girl."


End file.
